


The Things That Hold

by literamancy



Series: Arranged [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gore, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:30:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 38,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5003119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literamancy/pseuds/literamancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life of Belladonna and the Bull, before they became the guards of the newlywed Knight-Commander Cullen and Grand Enchanter of Kirkwall Nora. How the two came together, with a bang. More than a few bangs, actually.<br/> </p><p>This is Part 2 in the Arranged series, set before the events of Part 1, Neither by Chance Nor by Destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Starting Off With a Bang

**Author's Note:**

> A title Bull would be proud of.

Belladonna ground her teeth. Her fingers clenched and unclenched with unspent energy. The battle was done, hours from done, but she did not feel the post-fight calm she had come to rely on. Her vision swam with red. It was one of the most alarming, and later signs that she was losing control. The fact that she wasn’t concerned was concerning in and of itself. She wanted to pace, to crash through the Seheron jungle until she came across a foe worthy of her energy. Something she could fight, could lose her energy on until she was able to stand calmly in place. Her hands were shaking. She wanted, she needed-

“Katari,” was said sharply to her. She focused on the giant across from her, barely. She barely suppressed the urge to bare her teeth at him. His horns were pointed up like a threat. She wanted to lunge, to tear, to bite. Something held her in check. Her body twitched though. “Are you listening?” he demanded in qunlat.

“Yes,” she said, quietly, strained in the same language.

“Repeat my order.”

“I am to patrol the south border on the hill, and make sure none make it to the village,” she repeated dutifully. Her hands shook, she hoped someone would attempt. She hoped it would be a legion of Tal-Vashoth or Fog Warriors or Tevinter mages that she could tear limb from limb. She wanted the taste of blood on her tongue. She trembled with the need of it. Just the thought had her breathing a bit faster.

“Katari,” he said, again. She focused on him once more, with effort. He held her gaze. She tried to convince herself that there wasn’t a challenge there.

“I hear, and I obey, Hissrad,” she said, and dropped her gaze. Her pulse was racing. She wanted-She needed-She-

“And I?” Gatt asked. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet. She wanted to attack, to bring down the prey. His chin was tilted up, his throat bared for her fangs. She ground her teeth harder.

“See to the injured with Tat and Milo,” Hissrad said.

“I can-“

“ _See to the injured with Tat and Milo,_ ” Hissrad repeated. Gatt still for a beat, seeming ready to argue- her body tensed, she was ready, ready to pounce, ready to tear him asunder, she-but then he bowed to the command.

Her mind fizzled and sparked. She felt flushed, hot and cold. She  _needed-_

“Go,” Hissrad ordered. The group dispersed to do as they’ve been ordered.

Belladonna obeyed as well, of course, though her body rebelled against it. She went to the hill, and paced it, snarling. Why had he given her the hill? None would come here, it was the best vantage point. If anyone attacked, it would be a small diversionary group. The north was weaker, the better target. She snarled. He should have put her there so that she would have something to test herself against.

She turned and slammed a fist into a tree. It shook from the force, and she was panting.

She wanted-She needed-She  _needed-_

A twig snapped and she turned with a snarl. She lunged immediately upon seeing a hulking figure.

She was slammed back into the tree. Her wrists had been caught in a huge hand, and were held up above her head. She thrashed, and snarled. His other hand covered her mouth. She bit.

“Hush now Katari, we don’t want someone coming to look, do we?” Hissrad murmured into her ear. She whined and pressed up against him. She needed, she  _needed_. “I’ve got you now.”

“Enemies might-,” she said when he moved his hand. Her better sense, just by a thread, was urging caution. Her body however was more than pleased with the turn of events, and was pressing up against his.

“They won’t sneak by. I’ve sent someone down a span away with some flares. We will have warning if someone comes. Besides, you need to,” he said, and chuckled. She growl, and he silenced her with his mouth. His hands dropped to her waist. She strained against him, pushed at him out of reflex. Then his tongue was in her mouth and she was pushing him closer. She clawed at him, wanting him under her skin, to tire her until this damned energy was gone. His taste was already making the red fade.

“Hissrad-“ she groaned when his mouth moved to her throat.

He growled, lowly, and said “Remember, quiet Katari.” She growled, and grunted when he turned her and pressed her face first to the bark. It bit at her just as he did which made her sigh. He grabbed her hands and pressed them to the tree. She dug her nails in instantly “Do not let go,” he said, and pressed a sharp kiss to her shoulder blade. He pulled down pants swiftly and with an efficiency that came from familiarity. His hand slid between her legs, and she arched. He pressed her back into the tree. “I’ve been watching you all day, Katari. I see how agitated you are. I am here Katari, I will calm you,” he growled into her ear. “I’m going to fill you until there is nothing left in your mind, I’m going to push everything out until there is just me, just this, Katari.”

“ _Yes,_ ” Belladonna whispered into the bark, and then again, louder, when he replaced his hand with his dick. Her fingers, claw like now, bit into the wood. The bark cracked under her hold. He wrapped her braid around his fist, and jerked her head back even as his other hand pulled her hips back into his.

“You smell wonderful,” he snarled, his nose dragging along the side of her neck. “Sharp and hot.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she whined, quietly in time with his thrusts, even as her mind supplied  _Kadan, Kadan, Kadan._ She clenched her jaw on both of the things, and clenched her eyes. She tried to suppress her sounds, even as she tried to smother the word in her mind. The word she wished she had never learned. The mindlessness of the red was preferable to that damning word.

He released her hair in favor of covering one of her hands. He managed to pry her fingers loose from the bark, and threaded their fingers. She was glad she was able to drop her head so he could not see her face. His hand on her hip moved her, angled her differently, and she gasped.

It tore through her, made her head snap back to press to where his neck joined his shoulder. Her back arched, and her breath caught in her throat. She was glad, so glad that she was unable to speak for fear of what she would have said.

He followed after her, his hand tight on her own, the other keeping her hip tight back against the cradle of his. She trembled with him, his groan deep and guttural. It tore through her with her orgasm, scraping her clean, hollowing her out of the dangerous energy and rage that threatened her, leaving her broken and making her whole. All the while it was silence compared to the Kadan roaring in her mind, the Kadan she dared not speak, and hated for its appearance.


	2. Gathering Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisraad's gang has work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes on The Things that Hold.
> 
> Belladonna is actually from the noble house of Lavis, which isn’t mentioned here but I wanted you all to know she isn’t actually a Trevelyan.
> 
> My geography might not be right but I am under the assumption that Alam is a Tevinter city, which might not be right. We are going to pretend here that it is.
> 
> We are also going to be updating on Tuesdays, as Wednesdays are super busy.

The next day was better. Belladonna’s mind was more her own. Because she had been on guard last night she got to sleep through the hottest part of the day, for which she was grateful. She had grown up in a warm part of the world, but it was nothing like this humid oppressive heat. Her Free Marches home had mercurial seasons that ran the spectrum of temperatures. She could survive most places, but that didn’t mean she would be comfortable. The humidity made her clothing stick to her, and it didn’t even matter that Seheron garb was much less covering than elsewhere. She wore pants to protect her legs from dangerous plants, but the top was nothing more than a breast band. And even that was just to keep her breast out of the way in a fight. When she first arrived she had tried to wear her armor, but had quickly abandoned it. It protected her against the weapons their enemies used, but the speed of the fatigue it brought on was just as deadly. Even the weapons were fit for the climate. Hisraad was the only one she had seen with a large weapon, and he was an exception for so many things. Besides, he also carried smaller ones for different situations. Everyone else used arrows, blow darts, daggers, or, as in her case, war-axes. They were more compact, better for close combat in streets or heavy foliage.

Still, the heat and humidity made even the little she wore a burden. If they were in a more secure zone she would have abandoned clothing all together. It wasn’t an unheard of thing here. Her family would have been horrified by it, but she had long since lost all modesty. The hottest days did not allow it.

Belladonna woke for the afternoon rain. This time of year one could set their time candles to it, if they were used here. They weren’t, they had the rain. She stood in it, knowing it would not last long. It was good to wash the sweat, and last night’s adventures, from her skin.

“Good to see you awake Katari,” Hissrad said when she found him. She made a noncommittal noise, and took the rations he offered her. He also gave her the warm mug of foul smelling liquid. They both were unsure if activities like last night could even produce a child, but they had also both agreed long age better safe than sorry. It tasted horrible when she toss it back all at once, but he had a more pleasant mug of juice on hand for her. They stood together in the rain. “Nothing of note has happened. Most of the people were saved. Two died of poison, but the others are safe. We should have reinforcements join us by tomorrow to hold this place, and we will move on.”

“To?”

“The next village, then the next, then the next until we reach the coast, and the outskirts of Alam.”

“That is where they will be?” she asked, quietly. He hummed.

“If they are anywhere in Seheron, it will be there. We are going to get them back.”

“I wasn’t talking about-“

“I know,” he said. She closed her mouth for a moment. The mages they were going after were a side mission, only if they had time. The real one was to get a number of missing qunari children and tamassarans back. They had been disappearing all over Seheron.

“What is your plan?”

“I cannot let you kill them,” he said, gently. She bristled and he put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “If we are to discover what has transpired between them and you, we need them alive. Besides, Par Vollen wants them.”

Belladonna closed her eyes, and tried to relax. His reasoning was sound, and she accepted it, but she wanted to rip their throats out. What they had done, whatever it was, had destroyed her. Her control was now always a taunt string from breaking, and the pain of whatever it was they had done…

She shuddered, chilled.

“How do you feel?”

“Calm, at the moment.”

“No restlessness?”

“None.”

“Glad I could help,” he said, and chuckled into his drink. She snorted, and smacked his arm.

“Will you send for Issala when we ask for our next reinforcements?”

“Am I too much for you?” he asked. His eyes were sharp on her face, and he was too smart by half for her to hold his gaze.

“Hardly,” she snorted. No, you are just too complicated. “He grounds me well enough, and is not needed by everyone else.”

“Mm, and he is fond of you.”

She snorted again, “I assure you that is not what my concern is.”

“Is it not?” he asked. She glared back at him. He was still looking at her. She moved closer so that she could speak even lower.

“My concern is not killing you, and everyone in the immediate vicinity.”

“I seemed to have calmed you.”

“And next time I need it, if you are busy? If your squad needs you? If you are being watched?” she demanded. She had to look away again, on the off chance she could betray herself. She enjoyed him far too much to continue allowing him to tire her. There was too much danger in his touch.

“Those watching would know it a necessity. Par Vollen knows of you. But your other points are valid, and I was merely teasing. I will send for him. My concern is him turning from the Qun.”

“It is sex, nothing more.”

“For you, perhaps. He hopes for something more. From what I understand he was a Tevinter slave before we got him. He had a lover, had wanted a family. He might not be content with being a cook.”

“It is his place.”

“Some think they should choose their own,” he said, and put his mug to his mouth again.

“I thought so once. Look where that has gotten me,” she grumbled. He didn’t say anything for a time.

“You miss them? Your family?”

“No…sometimes, some of them. Not enough to turn away from the path.”

“Well, there is more to risk for you than others usually have,” he said. It was her turn to fall silent. She needed to stop having these conversations with him. It always went to places too personal, too telling. He was too smart to have all this knowledge of her. “Maybe sometime you might be able to visit them.” Still she didn’t speak. She had no desire to see her parents. They had cared for nothing more than to try to trap her into a life as a dutiful house wife to birth heirs for a weak kneed noble. She did miss her two elder brothers from time to time, but had never been close with her younger half-sisters. They had always been friendly but distant to each other. Belladonna much preferred riding with her brothers and patrolling their family’s land while they had taken their mother’s lessons to heart. They were proper ladies, and not as violent as Belladonna had been.

Strange, how a year or so ago she would have given anything to always be a breath from a fight. Now…

Nevertheless she didn’t think she’d be worrying about the correct spoons to be using at a formal dinner, or how to properly arrange her hair even if she did find the peace she sought.

Hisraad shrugged away from the post he had been leaning against. He set his mug aside. “Finish your breakfast, we have work to do.”

She obeyed.


	3. Name Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people are too smart for Belladonna’s own good.

Issala (his given name Cargan, as he had told her many times) ran his kiss bruised lips across Belladonna’s shoulder blade. Hissrad had sent for him, as she had requested, and they were two weeks from that last village. Three more had been reclaimed by their group. Hissrad said Par Vollen was impressed. It was the farthest anyone had gotten in decades. That didn’t change the fact they still hadn’t found the tamassarans or the children (or the mages).

“You are thinking too much Belladonna,” Issala whispered, his fingers ghosting down her spine. Her body was waiting for the bite of nails, for the fingers to dig in, but it did not come. It never did with him. Her body was expecting the rhythms of another’s hands.

She was thinking too much.

“Don’t say that name.”

“It is your name, no matter what the qunari have given you. You are more than just your position,” he said. There was a hint of displeasure in his voice. She needed to soothe it because she didn’t need him angry with her.

“I am merely being wary. What would someone say if they heard?” she asked. She was glad she wasn’t face to face with him. Lying was getting so tiresome, and she hadn’t even tried to make her face convincing. But Issala was blind with infatuation, and he didn’t even question her slightly flat tone. He just pressed another kiss to her back.

“I’ve missed you,” he hummed. She suppressed a sigh, and turned it into a hum of agreement. He continued his kisses, and she tried not to wish they’d turn to something harsher. Even if he did little to satisfy her, he did enough to tire her. It was only to keep away the red that she took on a lover in the first place. No, a lover wasn’t the right word. It was just someone to have sex with, because it tired her, even if Issala wished it to be more. There were not lovers in the qun.

Which, really, was why she needed him to continue to be pleased with her, and continue to warm her bed. The word Kadan had killed the arrangement with Hissrad, even if he didn’t know it. She couldn’t tell him, he would send her away. That was a more terrifying thought than enduring Issala’s lovesickness. Sex tired her when her energy bubbled beyond control, but it was Hissrad’s orders, his presence, that regulated it.

Issala’s attentions were a steak for a dog. A momentary distraction. Hissrad was a chain that kept her from tearing out the throats around her.

“Still so thoughtful,” Issala hummed. She only then noticed that he had been letting soft strokes fall over her thighs. It did nothing for her. If it were Hissrads hands-

No.

“It was a long day,” she said, and rolled. It would be easier not to think if she was preoccupied with him.

“Then you should stay the night, let me take care of you,” he murmured against her throat. She made another noncommittal noise. She had no intention of staying, never did, and his words only made her the more sure of it. Still, she waited till after their activities, and he was asleep to slip out. It was easier to get away when his questions, his affections didn’t follow.

“Fun night?” Hissrad asked when she joined him. He was sitting before a dying fire, poking at the embers. It was dark enough that she felt comfortable enough relaxing near him. She only made a noncommittal noise to his question. “You smell like him, so I am guessing so.”

“He performs his duty.”

“Is that all?”

Hissrad was smart, too smart, but his sharp eyes were looking for the wrong problems. “I do not love him. He fulfills a need. If I didn’t have it, I wouldn’t need him,” she said. It came out sharp, even if she spoke it quiet.

Hissrad backed off.

“We are two days from our next target. He, and the noncombatants, will remain here with a number of guards. Gatt will stay, Tats will come with you and I. I am still thinking who should be the other one.”

“Only four?”

“This will require stealth. Besides, we have you.”

“A double edge sword,” she snorted.

“I was not being serious Katari. I would not have you release you other side, even if it is your better half,” he said, and smirked. She snorted and kicked at rock at him.

“At least I have one.”

“Was that a barb Katari? A weak one at best. My every side is my good side. I am excellent specimen of my people,” he said, and gestured to himself. She snorted even as her eyes followed his gesture. He truly was a specimen. She’d never say it, but he was. He was simply huge, towered over other qunari, and every inch of him was chiseled muscle. Rough edges, rough voice, commanding. It was enough to make her heart pick up a beat.

“If you insist,” is all she said. Flippant, hide the truth. Even so, he had seen her look him over, and it had made him chuckle.

“You truly didn’t need to send for Issala, Katari, and put him in danger. I can handle you,” he said.

She knew he could. She just couldn’t handle him. “I have more room in my bed when it is shared with him.”

“I can’t decide if I should go with a small dick joke, or point out that you are not currently in your bed thus making your point null.”

Belladonna narrowed her eyes on him. Smart, too smart. “I worked up an appetite.”

“Then, by all means, do not let me keep you from finding something to eat. I’ll need you in shape for the next battle.”

“I thought you said it would be stealthy.”

“That doesn’t mean there won’t be a fight. Go, eat. Then get some rest.”

“If you command, I hear and obey,” she said, standing and giving a sarcastic bow that made him chuckle. Kadan whispered in her mind, and she bared her teeth at herself. She felt his eyes on her as she went. Smart, too smart. She needed to start being more careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update it has been a HELLA busy week.


	4. Better by Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belladonna talks about herself.

Belladonna would be lying if she said she didn’t know the exact moment she found herself in love with the Ben-Hassrath agent.

There was a kindness in this supposed killer that undermined so many whispered warnings about Qunari, and she had experience most of them in her last year. From the beginning when she begged mercy.

“I don’t want to die, please,” she had whispered, trembling, half out of her mind, on his floor. Sharp, silver blue eyes studied her from the dark of the house, and she was sure she made a mistake coming here.

“Then you won’t.”

Kindness, mercy from the start, from a killer. Not how she imagined her life going when she left home.

The first time her heart had become a traitor was when she was coming down from a rage.

It had happened so quickly, a fog warrior had appeared from the jungle and had caught her in the shoulder with an arrow. It had caught her so unaware that the rage was an ember in hay. She had lost time, but when she was regaining her mind she was in Hissrad’s hold. Her claws had been digging into his forearms, blood was flowing freely, and he had been holding her still by her shoulders. The surrounding jungle was destroyed, there was a smear of blood that must have once been the fog warrior, and her shoulder felt like it was on fire.

She snarled, and he snarled back. “Return to me Katari. You are more than this fury, more than this monster, more than the death you wish to bring. Return to me,” he ordered, pinning her with his eyes. His thumb dug into her wound until she whined. The pain dampened the fury.

The rage left as quickly as it came, and her knees went with it. He did not let her fall. “I’ve got you Katari, I’ve got you,” he said, and had held her to his body. Tears pricked at her eyes from the arrow, and she had pressed her face to his chest. His hand had been a large, soothing weight when he stroked it across her back. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I’ve hurt you,” she found it in herself to say, and it was true. One of his eyes was swelling, and his arms were a mess. The clench of her heart was worse than the arrow. She did not like that she had hurt him.

“I’ve got you,” he had said again. And he did. He had brought her back to his, their, home and removed the arrow. He had bound her wound, and helped her through the poison the arrow had been coated in. The days after were melted together in her mind from fever, but she remembered him taking care of her. Wiping her brow of sweat, keeping her cool when she became too hot, and holding her when she got too cold. He was doing as he had promised, keeping her alive, but she still felt as if he had gone beyond what he needed. Even if he didn’t the damage was done, and her heart was broken by his ministrations. The kindness made cracks that the rest of him was able to find its way in through. He made her laugh, he made her moan, he made her think, he made her calm. He made her want to be… better.

Issala was the one that told her the word Kadan, and its meaning. The heart, the center of the chest. He had said it mockingly, had claimed that the Tevinter forms of endearments were more nuanced and loving. But she did not need nuanced, or loving. She had Hissrad’s blunt words even if she would not have his love. She knew how the Qunari stood on such matters.

It was the reason she needed Issala to stay because her own traitorous heart had ruined anything she might have had with Hissrad. She did not want to be sent away; Hissrad was the only one that could calm her from a rage. She did not want to be sent away. She did not want to be sent from him.

So she did her best not to put herself in positions where her non-Qunari sensibilities would give her away, and tried her best to just be what he needed.

The lines crossed, often, as they did now.

“Ooh, right there,” Hissrad groaned, and she couldn’t help but smile as she pressed her fingers into a tight knot along his spine. His ears fluttered minutely. She resisted the urge to flick one.

“If you had a sensible weapon you wouldn’t have so much tension,” she said, evenly, but from his chuckle she knew he knew she was smiling.

“If I didn’t have such a big weapon you wouldn’t get to enjoy how my back moves when I use it.”

“Ah yes, would be such a shame for me to not be able to witness that show,” she said, and moved onto another knot that made him hum.

“Oh Katari your hands are magical.”

“I am sure that anyone else could do this for you,” she said flatly. He snorted.

“Yes, but they don’t have red hair, and don’t smell like a dragon,” he said, and reached back to catch her wrist. He took a smell of it, and waggled his eyebrows at her. She snorted, not allowing her face to heat, and hoping he did not feel the jump of her pulse in her wrist.

“Well someone around here needs to smell pleasantly,” she said. He laughed at her deadpan delivery, and tugged her down to sit beside him. He gently worked the tension from her hand. It left her pulse unsure to speed up or slow down as his touch calmed the restlessness she hadn’t even noticed yet. Even as it left her pulse confused it warmed her chest.

 _Kadan_ whispered in her mind, and she extracted her hand.

Conveniently that was the time that Hissrad’s team decided to join them around the fire. There were six of them aside from Belladonna and Hissrad themselves: Tats, Milo, Gatt, Barrel, West, and Dirk. Tats was aptly nicknamed for the serpentine tattoos that ran up and down his qunari grey arms. Milo was human, and the rules of naming under the qun here were less strict, so he used the name his parents had given him before he was brought under the tamassrans. Gatt was Gatt, an elf saved by and thus devoted to Hissrad with a short temper and an eagerness to kill anyone from Tevinter. Barrel was the shortest qunari Belladonna had ever seen. He was still taller than her, but not by much. In fact he was the same height as Milo, but he was twice as wide. He could dig a trench faster than anyone she had ever seen before as well. West was also a qunari. He had been born on the western half of Qunari controlled Sereheron and often complained his nickname was rather unimaginative. The final qunari of the group was Dirk. He was tall, almost as tall as Hissrad, but lean. His horns curled back towards his ears, like a ram, and he had a fondness for daggers. He had less of a fondness for Belladonna.

“You decide who is going with you, big guy?” Barrel asked. Hisraad rolled his shoulders and leaned towards the group, elbows on knees. He looked them over one by one.

“Tats, Milo, Katari, and Dirk,” he said eventually, to some groaning in the group. “The rest have the important job of protecting out rear.”

“I do so love being at your rear,” Barrel said which caused chuckles all around.

“You’ll come with us next time, but Milo is more likely to blend in, Tats is a sure shot, and Dirk is less likely to be heard.”

“Why is Katari coming?” Dirk asked, softly. He was a soft spoken man, so soft spoken Belladonna could almost believe it to be an innocent question if not for the hard look in his eyes.

“In case it all goes tits up,” Hisraad said.

“Why can’t I come?” Gatt asked. He looked very put out about the fact he would not be by Hisraad’s side.

“Because you,” Hisraad said, rubbing his hair, “Don’t listen to directions well enough.”

“I’ll listen, I’ll obey I swear!”

“Then you will stay here,” he said making Gatt scowl and the rest laugh. “West you will be in charge here in case someone is stupid enough to attack here. Our target is two days away, so we won’t be able to immediately offer help, but you’ve got ways to contact us if you need help. Right?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good,” Hisraad said, and took a slow breath. “We are getting close to Alam. Closer than anyone has gotten in a long, long time, and it is making the ‘Vints nervous-“

“Good,” Gatt growled. Hisraad held up a hand to silence him, and he obeyed. With the fire giving Hisraad’s face strange, dancing shadows, he looked more serious than Belladonna could remember him seeing for a long time.

“Nervous ‘Vints aren’t good things. They resort to demons, and killing hostages. If the children and Tamassarans are still alive, I’d like to keep it that way. This will be the second to last village we take. After the next only a small group will continue on. Those that stay behind will _need_ to keep out escape route back to the capital clear. We may have injured, tortured children to take care of. Silence, secrecy, it will be our key to success. Am I understood?”

A muted chorus of “Yes Hisraad”s and “Yes sir”s went up.

“The village after this will be the first town, and only, town we will take. Par Vollen wants us to test the waters, see how lax defenses have gotten. It is not a vital town, so if it proves too difficult we can leave it. Either way, it will cause a distraction for the ‘Vints, and the rescue team will go around in the safest direction for Alam itself. That is where our target will be. Yes?”

More agreements.

“The town has walls, and archery towers from when we last saw it fifteen years ago. As such, our information is out of date and we will have to be cautious. But that is a worry for another day. For now, those who leave with me tomorrow, get some rest. We will be leaving before the sun rises.”

Hisraad put a hand on Belladonna’s thigh to keep her from leaving with the rest. It was a momentary touch before he turned to talk to Gatt, who was still bitter over not being included, but she got the hint. Dirk graced her with a sharp look as he passed by to find his bed for the night. She waited patiently, mind reeling slightly from the touch, for Hisraad to finish with Gatt.

Finally the boy left, and the Ben-Hassrath turned his attention to her. She looked into the fire until he said, “Look at me, Katari.”

She obeyed, and allowed him to search her face. She kept it neutral, kept the dangerous parts hidden.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel no restlessness, I will not be a danger tomorrow.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“I-oh,” she said, and her gaze slid to look past his shoulder. He did not correct her, yet at least. “Like I need a bath,” she said, at length. He chuckled softly, the warmth of his breath hit her face and caused a small shiver to start at the base of her spine. She clamped down on her muscles, killed it before it could go much farther.

“This is more action than you have ever had with me. I wanted to know how you are handling it.”

“I have never had a problem with killing,” she said, and turned fully from him. She had at times had guilt about not feeling guilty when it came to killing, but the action itself had never given her pause.

“I thought the opposite, from how you act when… Well.”

“That is different,” she said. “I don’t get to control that, I don’t have a say in if I kill or not. But when I am in my right mind every being I kill is because there is reason for me to kill them. I do not make mistakes. If they are dead, it is because they had to be for me to live.” He said nothing, and the silence pressed on her. It made her wish to speak, damn him. “My family disapproved. My view of the world disgusted them, and my step-mother often bemoaned how I turned out. She couldn’t figure out where I went wrong. My father often said that if I was a son then my actions would have made more sense.” She shook her head, and took her ax in hand. “I made this with my own two hands. It has been remade several times, but some of the original metal is still in it. Better by Blood, I named it, to spite my family for a choice I made.”

Hisraad reached over, and she allowed him to take it from her hands. It is not as if he had never held it before, but now he was looking at it with new eyes, new information.

“I was riding with my brothers once, patrolling our lands, when we came across a group of bandits. There were less of us than them, but we were more skilled and on horseback. We brought them to heel easily… I killed all but one.” She paused here, remembering getting off of her horse, and beheading them before her brothers realized what she was doing. The last man had shit himself out of fear. “They were furious at me, my family, but this group had been plaguing our people for months. They had killed thrice the number of their group. The last man was later hanged by my family, after a trial. My father forbade me from riding for several months, one for each life I had taken.” She stood, snorted, her arms coursed with energy from the annoyance the memory brought. “They all ended up dead in the end, it didn’t make sense to have a trial. They had killed, and deserved to be killed. In a fury I told my father it was better to die by blood then by paper. He kept me indoors for a few more months from the outburst. He was always too afraid to dispense justice himself, always signed papers to allow another to take a life for him. I am not like him, I will kill those that harm me or mine. I will not be like him. I will not be weak,” she hissed the last word. She jumped when Hisraad’s hand closed, easily, around her wrist.

“Sit Katari,” he said. She realized her body was shaking, and the world had taken a red tint. She did not remember standing. She practically fell where she stood in her haste to obey. He set aside Better by Blood and put his hands on her shoulders. “Breath Katari with me,” he whispered in her ear. Her breaths had been gasping, she hadn’t noticed, until she tried to match them to his. His hands were a heavy weight on her shoulders, keeping her grounded but not trapped. His scent surrounded her like an embrace. He would not let her lose control, he would keep her chained.

Slowly her breathing slowed, and the pounding in her ears died down. He was whispering to her things she wouldn’t remember later. They didn’t matter besides the fact they were calming, they were praise, and that he was there. His thumbed worried over her spine, making her muscles loosen, and getting herself to break the ramrod way she had been sitting.

Such a close call left her dizzy, and tired. “Go to Issala,” he murmured when she had been following his breathing pattern for a number of minutes. She almost disobeyed, almost turned and pressed herself closer to him, to get him to ensure her calmness, but she did not.

She stood, and she obeyed


	5. Paths Revealed

Belladonna crouched underneath Hisraad’s arm. They were behind a wall, and he was supporting himself. Dirk was across from them. It was a low wall around the village, made of actual brick which was surprising. They had downed a tree up the road to prevent travelers coming up behind them to get to the entrance they were surrounding. The qunari of the group had leaves tied to their horns, which just poked up over the top of the wall. It look ridiculous, but Hisraad assured that it had saved his ass a number of times. Tats had found a suitable tree to shoot from and, though they couldn’t see him, they knew he could see them. Milo was currently in the village itself, checking out defenses, taking count of guards, and setting up a few gaatlock packets. Belladonna knew from seeing it with her own eyes that Tats would be able to hit them so long as Milo put them on the correct sides of buildings.

Hisraad’s breath was hot across her ear, and her blood was pumping. She was eager for a fight. She hoped there were plenty of guards. “Hold,” he whispered, and put his free hand on her knee. She hadn’t realized she had been bouncing it until now. She stilled, and his hand fell away. She counted his breaths, slow and steady, instead.

At 158 Milo appeared again. He walked, casually, from the village. He sunk his teeth into a fruit that spilt its juice down his chin the smug bastard. Still, it made her smile. She smiled even more at the hand holding his sack over his shoulder. He flashed four fingers then four again. Sixteen guards then, or at least sixteen armed individuals. Hisraad’s responding nod brushed some of the stray hairs on the top of her head. He made a gesture she couldn’t see. A few seconds later she saw several flaming arrows come from the trees. She covered her ears to muffle the explosions that followed.

When the shockwaves had passed she stood in unison with Hisraad and Dirk. “That closed the other exits, so no one should go running off. Hopefully. There was also a bridge, but we might need it so I let it be,” Milo explained quickly. His dagger was already in his hand. “Tats will get any runners.”

“Try not to kill anyone,” Hisraad ordered, already making for the gate. He easily ripped it off the hinges, show off. Belladonna moved to follow but Dirk cut her off. She curled a lip at him, but Milo was pleasant enough to fight besides. She left Better by Blood at her waist. She had metal knuckles on, and Hisraad had said to try not to kill anyone. “Milo, civilians.”

“Ay sir,” Milo answered. At Hisraad’s answering nod to her questioning look she followed. Honestly, she as not the kindest of capturers but she was human and that would cause less problems than sending Dirk to do it.

The two of them didn’t encounter much resistance since the guards were busy trying to deal with the Qunari suddenly in their midst. They quickly and efficiently herded the civilians into a building Milo had scouted out. It seemed to be a large meeting hall that doubled as their church. There were fifty at most ranging from sobbing children to hollowed eyed old men.

“Now, so long as no one does anything foolish,” Milo said in Tevine with a winning smile that, against all odds, put these people at ease. Belladonna had been taught the language during her upbringing, but let him do the talking. “No one is going to get hurt. We are just passing through. While we are here, you all are going to stay put and be guarded by our people. When we go, we are leaving you and letting you get back to your business. Sound good?” he paused, looked around. “Good. Now, mum there, if you would be so kind as to quite your babe. No need for everyone to have a headache ye?”

“H-he needs to be changed, I was just about to-“

“Not a problem, not a problem. Katari,” he said and she came to his side. The people eyed her uneasily. She did not have the friendly disposition Milo used as effectively as any weapon. “here can go get you a new nappy, if only you tell us where to get one.”

The lady worried her lip, and her husband put an arm around her when Belladonna continued to, silently, look at them. “We have a yellow door,” she woman finally gasped out. Belladonna nodded. She would find it, or something serviceable. The care of children being one of the many seemingly useless lessons her parents had forced on her.

“You will be well?” she asked Milo in qunlat. He nodded, not losing his smile, and she ducked out. Fighting could be heard in the center of the town, but she had orders to follow. She followed them, and sought out the house with a yellow door. It was at the edge of town farthest from where they entered. She entered it, and easily found a cloth for the babe. After a moment’s thought she grabbed a painted toy for the family. Hopefully it would keep the child silent.

Upon exiting the house an arrow thunk into the wood to her right. She jumped, and hissed at Tats’ chosen mode of communication, but nevertheless look to her right. A kid, probably are ten, was running at her with a knife. He had a determined look on his face, and the knife was little sharper than a butter knife.

She caught his wrist easily enough and squeezed until he dropped it. He kicked her, and she snarled at him. The kid went still, his fierce expression fell, and he burst into tears. Belladonna huffed, and pulled him along behind her. She should have stayed by Hisraad’s side. However, it seemed they had dealt with the guards easily enough. The sound of battle was gone.

They rounded a corner to find Dirk and Hisraad escorting the guards towards where the rest of the village was being held. Hisraad looked pleased, with his giant ax across his shoulders. It didn’t have any blood on it. He smiled when he saw her. “All go well?”

“Yes. Crying babe, and this one tried to stab me with a kitchen knife,” she said, and jerked the boy forwards. He stumbled, and half fell to the dirt with a cry. Dirk snorted, but Hisraad moved forwards.

“Now now, not a way to treat a brave little warrior,” he said, switching to Tevine. He crouched before them, and straightened the boy up. The boy stood, trembling and crying silently in fear, as Hisraad gently brushed the dirt off of him. Belladonna released his wrist. He would not be able to outrun them all. “Where is your mother?”

“I-I don’t know,” he choked.

“Well, I have a good idea where she might be. Let’s go find her, yes?” he asked, softly, and patiently waited until the boy nodded. Then he straightened up. He guided the kid with a hand to the back. They trailed after the guards and Dirk, with Belladonna bringing up the rear.

“Oliver!” a woman gasped, her hands flew to her mouth when they entered.

“Well, off you go boy,” Hisraad said and gently nudged him towards the woman. He walked a few steps before breaking into a run. “Brave boy, attacked Katari here. Will make a good guard one day,” he said to the guards men who were settling down with sour expressions. Milo took the diaper and toy from Belladonna and passed it to the mother. Within a few minutes her babe had quieted. In that time Belladonna took up a place behind Hisraad.

Hisraad made a show of counting everyone up. “68 of you all together,” he said, more to himself, as they all looked at him wide eyed.

“What are you going to do with us ox-man?” one of the older guards demanded.

“Me? Nothing. You all are going to sit tight for a couple days while we go about our business. No one will be harmed, no one will be taken. I am not here to convert people.”

“Then what are you here for?” a woman demanded.

“I’m here because your people have been taking mine,” he said. He pulled a chair over, and sat in it backwards. He clasped his hands before him in a lazy way that also showed his shoulders flexing. “Our mothers, our children. I would just like to get them back,” he said, gently. “At least twenty of our caretakers have been stolen, and somewhere in the vicinity of 120 of our children are missing. Has anyone seen anything like that? Anyone know anything?”

There was some restless muttering from the people, but no answers forthcoming. None of the conquering group was surprised, no one they had come across yet had seen anything. Not that Hisraad had taken to truly torturing any civilians or guards. They had come across a mage at one point that had been summoning demons, and Hisraad had questioned him, but all he had offered was to go towards Alam. There had been something about a bull, but it hadn’t made much sense. He hadn’t had many teeth at that point.

Hisraad sighed, and shifted to stand. “There have been some wagons coming through, sir, that bypassed the village. They didn’t stop for nothing,” one of the younger guards said, before his fellows silenced him. Hisraad stood, moved through the crowd towards the young man. A path parted for him quickly.

“Let him speak. What did you see?” he demanded.

“Not much, sir, just wagons. They were completely covered up, and smelt something awful. When I questioned a driver once, asked why he wasn’t getting supplies, and what he had I stopped seeing them.”

“They started going through at night,” another offered. Hisraad looked at the young woman who had stood, and went to the young man’s side. “I saw them. To the north is the path they usually take.”

“How do you know this?”

“I was up late a couple times sir.”

“Doing?”

“Mending clothes.”

“You are lying,” he said, patiently. Her cheeks slowly colored.

“Very well. I was mending clothing and worrying.”

“Why are you worried?” the young man on the ground asked, completely ignoring the huge, horned man standing over them for a moment. Hisraad took a step back, and Katari could imagine his pleased smile.

The young lady crossed her arms across her chest. “Because my moon blood is late, if you must know, and you’ve yet to ask for my hand,” she huffed.

The young man looked at her dumbfounded. “I-You- Why haven’t you said?”

Hisraad laughed, and everyone’s attention was back on him. “Well, seems like we will need to be quick in our business so that you two can plan your wedding.” The entire conversation had managed to calm the room. The tension that had been present had faded. Hisraad returned to their group. Tats had joined them in the middle of the exchange. “The rest of my people are on their way with reinforcements. Until they arrive I will need everyone to sleep in here so we can keep an eye on you all. I do not want bloodshed, I do not want harm for anyone. I just want my people back. As such, if anyone needs for anything, please ask and we will provide. When my men arrive you all will be allowed to go back to business in the village so long as no one tries anything stupid,” he said, looking across the crowd. “That, of course, means that you will all need blankets. Tats, Dirk?” The two ducked out, and Hisraad switched to qunlat. “Milo, Katari, remain. I am going to look for the wagons’ trails, and send a message to West to join us.”

“We’ll keep everyone entertained sir,” Milo replied in Tevine. “Katari, help me with these tables, yeah? Have you all seen a shadow show?” he asked the crowd. Katari rolled her eyes a little, and helped him set it up. He truly had the strangest collection of skills from the group. Soon enough he had a cleared, had set up his light box, and had the windows covered so the room would be dark. With practiced ease he started up the play to entertain the people using a number of voices for his multiple characters. Belladonna had seen it enough times that she went to lean in the doorway to watch for the others, and tuned him out.

Hisraad joined her after a time. Dirk and Tats were already handing out blankets, and the few pillows they had found. “Find anything?” she asked.

He smiled a little though it looked strained. He held a necklace out to her, a rock with part of it painted black. “What is it?” she asked, and took it.

“Something children often do. I know I did. It is a Necklace of Kadan, sorta,” he said. Her heart stuttered at that word so casually spoken. “It’s really supposed to be a dragon tooth and obsidian, but children don’t have access to those obviously. Next best thing. So, good news is that we are on the right path. The bad news is that they are headed right for Alam, it looks like,” he said, and shook his head. “I just hope I can give that back to whoever lost it.”

“Is it important?”

“It’s a symbol mostly used by children. Sometimes adults do, but it is rare. Kadan, it means the heart, the center of the chest. It is… It’s an endearment, but not at the same time. It’s not how you would know an endearment to be, I supposed. We use it for those that mean much to us, that we hold in our hearts, but it is not for lovers.”

“I know the qun doesn’t have them,” she said, sharp enough for him to raise an eyebrow.

“No, we don’t. But Tamassrans often use it for the charges, and vice versa. I made one for my Tama,” he reached over and rolled the rock between his thumb and forefinger. “I admit, theirs looks better than mine did. It’s a symbol that no matter the distance between two people, they are always together.” She released the necklace, and he tucked it into the safety of his pouch. “Milo doing his show?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t want to watch it?” he asked, chuckling.

“I know how it ends,” she replied, and looked out across the village. He clapped her shoulder, and went to join them. She rubbed her fingers were she had held that necklace.


	6. Several Things, All at Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is hard, being left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two for the price of one this week since we didn't update last week. Everything is busy and awful.

“You are going to be staying behind,” Hisraad said. He was not looking at her, did not see the shocked looked she gave. He instead continued to look out over the town as his men settled in, and at the sunset. He had called her up here to give her this news. When she didn’t say anything he turned to look at her. She was trying, very hard, to school her expression into something less…furious.

“Why?” she demanded.

“I cannot trust you to do what is needed, and to not run after the people that hurt you. Even if we do come across them you can’t kill them. I don’t think you will be able to help yourself,” he said. She bared her teeth at him, and turned to glare out over the tops of the houses. She had an unpleasant moment of her mind dredging up things she had tried to forget. Blood, burning, being forced down her throat. Blood on the sand, set in circles for a spell, the smell of heated metal, and then pain. So much pain. “You will remain here, with West and Gatt.”

“You are leaving me with the child,” she hissed.

“Not because I think you one.”

“You think me having the control of one.”

“I am wrong? Would you be able to obey if they were before you?” he demanded, sharply. She snorted, clenched her jaw. He sighed and touched her shoulder. “Katari-“

“And if I lose control while you are away?”

“You’ve been without me before, and have been fine.”

“Not in enemy territory.”

“This will be a test then. If you show yourself able to control yourself in this then perhaps we may search for your tormentors in earnest. But for now our people are my concern. I will not leave them to whatever fate the 'vints have for them.” His words made sense, and he was right, of course, but it hurt. And he _was_ right, she couldn’t even argue against it. She would kill them if she came across them again. He squeezed her shoulder before releasing her.

“When will you go?” she asked, quietly.

“Before the sun rises.”

“Who will you take?”

“Everyone but you, Gatt, and West. Our reinforcements will remain here as well, to keep the populace in line. We will go to the town I spoke of before, do our best to take it, and then get our people back.”

They sat in companionable silence for a time, though she was tense. She did not want him to go, but his orders had not led her astray yet. She just needed to obey. She clenched her hands on her knees. “Please, be safe,” she whispered. His hand touched her back again before standing and leaving her. He hadn’t needed to speak.

_Kadan_ her mind supplied unhelpfully and her heart ached. She rubbed her face, and went to find Issala. It would be good to keep herself preoccupied, and he would suffice. When she woke the next morning, Hisraad and the rest were already gone.

Even if she hadn’t been taken with them, there was still plenty to be done. He had ordered that the things they had destroyed in the taking of the village be repaired. Dirk had argued he was being soft on the 'vints, and Hisraad had turned on him to snarl “These are just people.” As such, he was offering them the same level of help he would anyone on their side of the island would receive.

Belladonna was glad for the work. It was harder to let her mind wander when she had to help drag logs out from the forest, and back into the village to be processed into planks to repair the walls and buildings that had been damaged. It was hard to focus too much on her itching fingers when she had to focus on not hitting them with a hammer. A few days passed in such a fashion. She would tire herself with labor, and then tire herself further with Issala. It made him laugh, and tell her she was bent on killing him with exhaustion.

“I am glad you sent for me,” he said, and pressed kisses to her neck.

“I needed you,” she replied. She felt his smile against her skin, and sighed softly. His endless affections tired her as well, but in an unwelcome way. Perhaps she should start looking into finding another.

“If I ran, would you come with me?” he asked. She stilled, held her breath.

“What?”

“I would make sure you lived like a queen,” he said, fervently, and held himself over her. She looked up at him.

“I can’t,” she said.

“Hisraad is not here, and they trust you. We could go into the jungle, claim we are gathering things, and just… Go,” he said, eyes far away with thought.

“You don’t understand, I-“

“I do understand. He is always there, always watching, and you are afraid. But it is okay. I can protect you. I will protect you. I’ll give you everything you deserve,” he said, and took her face in his hands.

_Hisraad was right, the fool is in love with me,_ Belladonna thought with a sinking feeling. She’d need to have him sent away, would need to find another to warm her bed and quickly before it became a problem. She nearly swore at Issala for his foolishness. She’d need to tell Hisraad of it when he returned, would need to send Issala to the re-educators. The idiot.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer me now,” he whispered, averting his eyes. “It is hard for you, I know, and you are scared but… Just know I will do whatever you need done, will do anything for you. Everything,” he said the last on a sigh, and settled down next to her. She forced herself to return the fool’s embrace as he pressed himself to her, and settled his cheek on her breast. He hummed softly. “Try to calm your heart my love, I will not bring it up again. Not until the time is right,” he mumbled.

She closed her eyes, and fought down her panic. She should kill him. He was a liability, she-

She pushed it from her mind for now. Such thoughts were dangerous. Hisraad would deal with him, when he returned. Until then, she’d need… She’d just need to keep everything together.

Belladonna waited until him asleep before she slipped out. The night air did her good, and helped still her mind. Eventually she found herself approached by West. “Gatt has run,” he said. She always appreciated his knack of getting to the point.

“Do you wish me to collect him?”

“Hisraad says you are good at finding people, when you’ve a mind to. I have a few already looking, but if you could I would ask you to. I fear he has gone after them. I trust you will bring him back, and not fall prey to doing the same,” he said. She scowled.

“Hisraad has ordered me to stay, and I obey.”

“Good. I believe he went east, to make us think he has tried to escape, before he will circle around and go west. Please be swift, I don’t want him to twist an ankle out there, or get bit by something foul.”

“I’ll return before the sun,” she promised. West, at her request, showed her to Gatt’s tent, and she took one of his daggers. It had his scent on it, enough for her to track him with. She gathered a small travel pack as well that had a number of things in it should she have need. A healing kit was first and foremost, as well as at least one blanket. She did not expect to need it, but better safe than sorry.

With that West saw her to the border of the village, and watched her head out into the dark. As with the other tasks she had been assigned, Belladonna was glad for this one. It also had the added benefit of getting to beat some sense into that little shit before she dragged him back.


	7. Strange Storms...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something wicked this way came.

Unfortunately she did not return before the sun. She found Gatt near dawn, and a storm had come upon them suddenly and unexpectedly. Though she had, stubbornly, tried to drag them through it, it was impossible. After a tree nearly fell upon them Gatt persuaded her to take refuge in a nearby cave. “If you had obeyed this would not be happening,” she snarled, and twisted her pants to try to wring out some of the water. He scowled at her, doing the same. She had given him a black eye when he resisted her.

“He shouldn’t have left me. I could be of use to him. I want to be.”

“Then you should have listened. He knows where is best for you.”

“Says the person he takes everywhere.”

“Am I with him now?” she snarled, making him flinch. But he didn’t back down, the fool.

“You could be.”

She snarled again, and tossed her pants over a rock to dry a bit. “When we return I am going to tell West to lock you up,” she grumbled. He huffed and they both retreated further back into the cave where it was drier.

“I just…” Gatt started. He frowned, sighed, and pulled his knees to his chest. He hid his face in his arms. “He saved me. I want to repay him for that. And the 'vints… I… I want to kill them all.” He whispered. She watched him tremble. Awkwardly she put a hand on his shoulder. It was easy to forget him but a child. Hisraad had hinted at what had happened to him when he had returned with the boy. The broken, dirty elf child that hadn’t spoken for weeks.

“I know,” she said, softly. “But he wants obedience from us. That is how we can best help him.”

“You don’t know shit,” Gatt snapped and glared at her with watery eyes.

“You think you are the only one that has been hurt by Tevinter?” she demanded, and dropped her poor excuse for gentleness. “Do you think you are the only one that owes Hisraad their life?”

He looked away and they fell silent again, for a long time. Finally he broke the silence. “What did they do to you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember. Blood magic, most likely, but exactly what I… I just remember pain for ages. It was probably a few days, or maybe hours. Felt like years,” she huffed. “And now I turn into a monster at the drop of a hat, and kill everything around me. Only Hisraad is able to calm me.”

“Is that how you found me?”

“Yes. Whatever they did, it heightened my senses. I can see in the dark. It made me stronger too, and resistant to fire. There is probably other stuff, but I know not what.” She shrugged. “I do not think it a fair trade.” He didn’t say anything to that. Belladonna sighed again. “Hisraad awards obedience. If I do not kill everyone, if I stay calm, he says we may be able to go after those that did this to me. Obey, and perhaps the same could be offered to you.”

“He killed those that hurt me.”

“He can find others that hurt others like you, and point you to them.” Gatt made a noncommittal noise. Belladonna pulled the wet bag over, and pulled out the blanket. She gave it to him. It was damp. Fitting, for the little shit. “Sleep. In the morning we return, and you receive punishment from West.” He grumbled under his breath, and she ignored him. Eventually he settled on the ground, and fell asleep. She did neither, and instead stayed sitting against the cave wall. It was hard to relax without having Issala tire her first, or the comforting scent of Hisraad nearby. It was harder still when, though it was raining like whatever powers that be meant to drown them, the air did not smell as it should. It did not smell of a storm but instead of strife, of something half forgotten that made the fine hairs all over her body stand on end.

Belladonna pushed the thoughts away. It would not do to allow them to feed kindling to the ever smoldering fire within her. She had just recovered Gatt, it would not do to kill him. And Hisraad had ordered her to be calm. She must obey.

Sometime in the small hours of the morning, when the strange storm broke, she was able to fall asleep. She woke early, just as the sun started to peek its fingers into the cave. She collected her clothing, now dry, and dressed, before rousing Gatt. He woke without any complaints. He seemed resigned in his impending punishment. As such, their trip back was a sedated affair.

That was until they saw the smoke.

Belladonna smelt it before they saw it, and, in her effort to continue being calm, had brushed it off as nothing more than a cook fire even though her instinct niggled at her that that was untrue. Seeing the large billowing snake in the sky made her face the fact it was not just someone making breakfast.

“What is it?”

“Danger,” she growled. There was a hint of copper, a smell she knew too well, on the air. Had the Tevinter peasants rebelled? “Come.”

Gatt obeyed, and followed her. He stopped when she did, and asked no questions. Belladonna found them a safe spot in the underbrush where she could see down into the village. Gatt breathed in sharply at her back, but she ignored him. The buildings were still smoldering, and most were little more than rubble. What still stood had been painted red with blood. There was a lingering, sharp, smell of magic on the air. For it to last so long, to still be so strong, meant that some pretty intense spells had taken place. It had rubbed the veil raw. She could _smell_ the strange world on the other side. It made her hands flex repeatedly. There was no one left in the village though. At least, no one alive.

“Come,” she said, and made her way down from their safe spot to the remnants. Gatt followed behind her, at a distance. They had made it near the center of the village when a demon spilt from one of the more intact buildings and rushed at them, roaring. Belladonna turned towards it, went onto the balls of her feet, bared her claws and teeth with a hiss.

The demon stopped and seemed to consider them both before slinking backwards. Belladonna took a threatening step towards it and it sped up its retreat.

“How-“

“Look for survivors,” Belladonna snapped. She clenched her hands into fists, her sharpened nails biting her palm. She mustn’t let the flash of red remain. She shook her head with a snort to attempt to clear it. She and Gatt searched through the rubble. Two more demons were scared off by Belladonna, and they found countless bodies.

“Was this the work of vints?” Gatt asked, toeing a dead child.

“Fog warriors do not come this far west.”

“But these were their own.”

Belladonna shrugged to that, and looked away from the body. It was the boy that had tried to stab her. There were many of their own among the dead. Most of the qunari they had found had had their horns removed by a variety of means. Then their heads as well, it seemed.

“How..?” Gatt asked, shaking his head at it all. Belladonna took a slow breath in through her mouth. The blood was making her restless. She wanted, she needed Hisraad-

“Belladonna?”

Both of them whipped around to see Issala emerging from the jungle. He was wide eyed, and soaked. He went pale at the sight of the destruction around them. “Oh, Maker,” he groaned.

“What happened?” she demanded, and advanced on him. He mistook it for comfort, and fell into her. She caught him more to keep him from falling on a corpse.

“I am so glad you are safe,” he choked, and clung to her. She endured it, and his trembling.

“Issala, what transpired here?”

“Tevinter mages came. I was out gathering some ingredients when they arrived. They brought a storm, and used it as cover. They, Maker, they killed anyone who fought.”

“No they didn’t, there aren’t enough bodies,” Belladonna murmured, and looked around. She had thought perhaps she had miss counted but… No, more were missing than made sense. Even if demons had. Well. And that did not explain their own people. They would not have fought.

“Some they captured, and threw into wagons. They took off towards Alam,” he said, and pulled back to wiped at his face.

“Then we must go after them!” Gatt said. Belladonna looked at him. “If they attacked here, then that means that Hisraad is in danger as well.”

The world went still around Belladonna. Hisraad, in danger?

“Belladonna, this is our chance,” Issala whispered, turned her back to face him. She stared at him dumbly. “To go, to run away and have a life together.”

“I-“

“We will never get a chance like this again. We can go south, find another village, just blend in until we can go somewhere better. Have a family, we-“

“I owe him my life,” she said, and took Issala’s hands away from her face. He looked stricken. “I’ll not, I can’t just.” She closed her mouth and shook her head. _I cannot leave my heart behind._ The center of her chest was wherever he was, of course.

“You don’t owe him anything,” Issala ground out, but she had already turned away.

“We’ve my pack, limited supplies. You’ve your weapon and I my ax. We’ve no knowledge of this side of the island, and-“

“Not no knowledge. I have been to some of the places around Alam back when… I will know some places,” Gatt said. She looked at him, then nodded slowly. “We also don’t have just my daggers and your ax. We have you, too.”

“That is… that is true,” she said, though she did not want to dwell on a circumstance where she would need to utilize that particular weapon. “We can find food on the move, find a wagon there for those that are injured.” She thought about it a bit more. There was so much they didn’t know about for what lay before them. Nevertheless, she nodded to herself and started to walk. The scent of magic was sharp enough to follow. It was like a path on the air. She’d be able to track it.

“Wait!” Issala called. They both looked back at him. She had nearly forgotten he was there. “I am coming too. I don’t know what I will be able to do but… Please do not leave me here.”

“Very well,” Belladonna said after some consideration. He’d be able to prepare anything they foraged. He seemed relieved and hurried to be between them as they headed out. His hand was tentative when it reached for hers. When she did not return his hold he abandoned it.

In truth she did not feel it. She was numb and on fire all at once. Hisraad was in danger, and she was not at his side. Hisraad needed her, wherever he was, now and she was too far away.

_Kadan,_ was supplied to her. A plea and a promise in one.


	8. And Broken Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad things happen to Bull.

The group had not been taken all the way to Alam, as it turned out.

The three of them had stopped at the town Hisraad’s team was meant to capture. Issala and herself had entered it together, and had gathered information. Hisraad’s team had attempted to take it, but there were a number of mages that had resorted to blood magic and demon summoning to defend the town. The team had been captured. The people of the town were practically vibrating with the knowledge that they were being taken to The Bowl.

The man Hisraad had questioned made more sense now, especially as Belladonna was looking at it. It was a coliseum outside of Alam shaped very much like a bowl. From what they could see its sides extended into the air perhaps two dragons high. Belladonna supposed it must extend down into the earth as well. It had four major entrances attached to four major roads. One of them lead to Alam itself, perhaps an hour by horse to the west. They were currently near the east road. The northern and southern ones extended off into the jungle, most likely to other Tevinter cities. Even as they watched hundreds of people were being admitted into the huge structure.

It had been five days since she had last seen Hisraad.

Belladonna pushed that from her mind for now in the hopes it would not encourage other, more uncomfortable thoughts. She needed her mind at the moment. The red would need to wait.

“Let’s go-“ She caught Gatt before he could move much farther than a few inches. He huffed, but she pulled him back to kneel with them.

“You two will remain here.”

“What?” Gatt snarled. She tightened her hold on his arm until he settled.

“You must find transportation for us. We will not know what condition they will be in. They may not be able to travel on their own. “

“Issala can-“

She tightened her hold. “You will obey,” she snarled. He gritted his teeth.

“I will get transportation, Katari.”

“What must I do?” Issala asked.

“You will provide assistance for Gatt in whatever way he needs.”

“What will you do?”

“I will retrieve our companions,” she said. “We will meet back here. If anyone asks, you are a merchant Issala, and Gatt is your slave. Try not to kill anyone, it will rouse suspicion. I don’t care what you get for transportation, so long as it can carry multiple people. I will return in an hour, perhaps two. Wait at least half an hour and for a good opportunity to steal horses, or a wagon. No matter what happens leave when the light has left. If I don’t return someone will need to inform Par Vollen. Do you hear, will you obey?”

“I hear and obey,” the two said. She nodded, and stood. It was late afternoon. She would need to get moving. She pulled a cloak they had already stolen around her shoulders, and pulled the hood over her head to hide her face. She took a calming breath. The red needed to wait.

She went back to the road, waited for it to be clear, and then stepped out onto it. She joined the steady stream of people to The Bowl. Her skin itched at being so close to so many people, and enemies at that. Her skin itched and her fingers ached.

The Bowl went down into the earth as she imagined. Her head swam. There were so many ‘vints, and the stench of magic and blood was heavy in the air. It stopped her short, and made a number of people bump into her. She quickly moved off to the side, closed her eyes, and clenched her fists. She took a few deep breathes to calm herself.

A roar made her open her eyes again. Dirk and Hisraad were on the sands of the arena. The others were as well, scattered and broken. Dead. Even as she watched the Pride Demon charged the two. Dirk did not move fast enough. The demon was sufficiently distracted by tearing him limb from limb that it gave Hisraad the opening he needed. All he had was a chain, but that was enough. He jumped onto the demon’s back, looped the chain around its neck, and pulled. With a roar of effort from him, and a loud crack, the demon went down. He was tossed from its back, rolled, and got up slowly. His limbs shook.

She caught herself from collapsing by supporting herself on a railing. “This is the third of the oxman’s. He is costing the betters quite a bit. There is no way they will let him continue on much longer.” A ‘vint said to her right. She closed her eyes again, against the red. She needed her mind. She needed-

“Admirable,” an announcer said. “Another demon taken down by our newest champion. But let us raise the stakes, shall we?” the announcer asked. Belladonna started down the stairs. She needed to get to him before she lost herself. She was biting the inside of her cheek so hard she was starting to taste blood. She needed-

A child was thrown out onto the sands, one of their missing children. Hisraad took half a step towards her, but then she was surrounded by red. It took just a moment for the smell of fresh blood hit her. The girl let out a scream that made even the audience cover their ears. The girl contorted back, her spine almost going in half before snapping forwards. She flung her hand out. Hisraad flinched, and then shouted. There was a snapping sound, and he crumpled.

Hisraad had a unique scent, everyone did, but his always seemed to calm her, to bring her back to herself. The air filled with the smell of him, but the sharp, powerful smell of him was shattered by the smell of his blood. Red splattered on the ground, and red filled her vision. He needed her. He  _needed_ her.

 _Kadan,_ roared in her mind, snarled under her breathe, and she was flying down the stairs towards the arena. She fought against it, she needed to keep her mind, she needed-

The announcer called up a number of other demons, and Hisraad tried to back away from them. She jumped the wall that separated the arena from the viewers. She hit the sand, and rolled. When she was on the balls of her feet she displayed her claws, and she roared.

The demons turned away from him, from her heart, and towards her. She would  _tear_ them apart for their insolence, for threatening him. He was  _hers._

Pride demons too prideful to run fell under her. They were no match. Despair demons learned the truth of their names, and rage demons were burnt by her fire. The mages in the audience saw what was happened, and their spells hit her. They were ineffective, slid off her skin like water off wax. She ripped the arm off a downed Pride Demon and used it as a spear into the spectator box that seemed to hold the most mages. The few demons that were left, that she had not gotten to yet, fled up into the stands. That was enough to disperse any that thought to remain, to offer more resistance for her.

She debating giving chase, of cutting down the prey fleeing from her. But no, Hisraad was in need, and she would provide. He was propped up against the wall of the arena, looking pale. His leg,  _his leg-_

“Katari,” he breathed, rough and ragged and in pain.

“Your leg,” she ground out. Her voice was not hers, not entirely. It was hers and the thing within her. Whatever the other side was, it agreed that he was hers. It allowed her some portion of her mind.

“They are all dead,” he groaned, even as her hands danced across him, checked for other injuries. There were many. Burns, bruises, lashes, welts. It made her tremble, made her snarl. His hands caught her arms, hard enough to bruise. “Leave me.”

“No,” she snarled, and pulled his arm over her shoulders. He screamed when she pulled him to his feet. She tried to drown it out, to no hear it, they didn’t have a choice they had to move, but it cut her. She was halfway towards the gate that allowed prisoners in and out when she noticed the girl demon in their way. She paused.

It was an innocent looking thing in a white shift, and with little horns. If not for its completely black eyes it could pass as a girl. “Katari,” Hisraad whispered when she tensed.

“How odd, to see something such as you in this day and age,” the thing said with a blink. “But how fitting. Two broken things having found each other. You are broken, aren’t you.” It smiled, slow and steady, and showed far too many teeth. Belladonna snarled, and let Hisraad sink to the ground. The demon stopped smiling, and took a step back. “Hold now. The mage that summoned me is dead thanks to you. I’d rather not fight something like you. The both of you would kill me.”

“I won’t be doing much,” Hisraad groaned, glaring. The thing laughed, its voice was too high by half. He put a hand on Belladonna’s calf when she tensed.

“I was not speaking to  _you_ blood thief. I was talking to them,” it said and pointed at her. At their silence it smiled with too many teeth again. “You don’t know, do you? What you are? I could tell you if you let me go,” it asked gently, the smiling dimming into something almost sweet. Belladonna held, unsure of Hisraad’s will. She knew her own, but she was not of her own mind. She wanted-

“What are you saying?” he demanded. The demon’s gaze did not waver from Belladonna.

“Again, I was not speaking to you filth,” it hissed at him, then continued more softly towards her. “A mistake. A tradition preformed incorrect, a kindness made killer, a-” It cut itself off with a yelp as Belladonna lunged. It was three long strides until she had grabbed it. “No, we had a deal!”

“You  _hurt_  him,” she hissed, stared into the things shocked, terrified eyes, and ripped out its throat. For good measure she tore it apart as well. It had  _hurt her kadan._

“Katari, that is enough,” he gasped. She was trembling, her rage was not satisfied. But he needed Katari, not the red, so she pushed it back somewhat. Enough that she could think. She returned to him and forced herself to look at his leg. The muscles were bunched awkwardly under the skin, one half having been cut from the bone. The bone itself was poking from the skin. She closed her eyes, pushed back the red.

“Hisraad,” she ground out. He put a heavy hand on her shoulder. It did not succeed in grounding her as well as it had before. She opened her eyes and looked at his leg again. “I apologize for this,” she said. Before he could react she grab his leg, and set the bone. He screamed, his hands grabbed her wrists and gripped weakly. The scream ended in a broken sob. She fluttered her hands across his shoulders. She couldn’t offer him relief now. Eventually he released her, and she was able to find a broken shaft of some weapon. She broke it in half and used it, and some fabric, to make a poor splint for his leg. Every touch made him tremble, and whimper. The red was still present, but so was her mind. As was a staccato rhythm of kadan playing in her head. She pulled his arm over her shoulders again, and lifted him. He cried out again.

“Leave me, just leave me,” he begged, and she shook her head. It hurt to deny him, to force this pain on him, but she would not leave him.

Outside of The Bowl was a cart pulled by slaves for the rich. It was abandoned in their haste to flee, and would serve her purposes perfectly. She put him, delirious with pain, onto the seat. She put her hand to his cheek for a moment. “Stay with me,” she whispered. He did not reply. He was going into shock, and she was  _useless_ to him. She ripped the cloak off of herself, and did her best to wrap it around him. It was tattered and heavy with blood, but hopefully it would offer some help. She could only hope.

Belladonna took the handle from the front, and started pushing. She needed to make it back to the others before the night arrived. Already the sun was kissing the horizon.

It was the longest walk of Belladonna’s life. Each bump made him whimper until he passed out. The silence was worse than the noise.

Gatt had managed to get a wagon with two horses. The sight of it gave her a burst of energy, and she quickened her pace. “We must go,” she said, voice still rough from the retreating red. Hisraad did not need the red, not the full of it, just enough to give her strength to get him to safety. Soon she would not need any at all, but for now she just needed fraction of the red. “Gatt, hear and obey, we must go.”

She came around the front to find him bound, and gagged, and unconscious. She looked at him stupidly, her mind moving slow. It clicked, and she turned with a snarl, looking for the attacker. She released the handle, circled the wagon, snarling and ready to kill, to defend. She found no one, nothing, she-

She came back around to find Issala standing over Hisraad with Gatt’s dagger. She froze, and they stared at each other.

“You-“

“I did this all for you,” he interrupted, trembling. “I contacted them, planned everything out, risked everything, for you. And you are still trapped under his influence.”

“This is all your fault,” she whispered.

“I did this all for you!” he shouted, panting. The dagger swayed. She stiffened, she snarled.

“I did not want this,” she hissed, eyes locked on the dagger.

“I will kill him, I will free you from him, so that we can be together, so-“

“I will kill you,” she said softly, in a monotone. He stilled, eyes wide.

“But-“

“I never wanted you. I never wanted this.”

He stood, shocked. And then his eyes hardened, and flicked down to Hisraad.

She lunged when he did, and caught his wrist. She snapped it with hardly a thought, and made him scream out in pain. The momentum made her slam him back into the carriage. Her hands found his throat. She would kill him, kill him for threatening Hisraad, for putting her Kadan in danger.

She snarled, and tightened her hands on his throat. He would die slowly, by her hand.

“Release him Katari,” Hisraad whispered, reached around him and touched her face. She snarled, she would do no such thing, she would prevent him from ever,  _ever_ threatening Hisraad again. “Katari, there has been too much death. Release him, let him go. Please.”

She flicked her eyes to his miserable face, and back to Issala’s that was going blue. She bared her teeth, let out a whine, and relaxed her grip. With a snarl she threw him from her.

“Go,” she hissed. He hesitated, but her following snarl made him flee with his broken wrist cradled to his chest. “Hisraad,” she whispered, miserably. This was her fault. All her fault. She should not have sent for him, should have accepted Hisraad’s wisdom.

She gritted her teeth. Her punishment for her foolishness could come later. For now, he needed her. She would do, would be, as he needed.

He was in enough pain that the little bit more of her moving him from the carriage to the wagon did little to him. She released the unconscious Gatt from his binding, checked the bump on his head, and then put him in the wagon as well. She was tired, but Hisraad needed her to take care of him. Her rest could wait.

The horses were skittish of her from her smell of hot metal and blood, and from the violence that just transpired. She did not care. They were a means to an end. She snapped the reigns to get them to go for they had far to travel until they were safe once more. And she would not rest until he was safe.


	9. Fucking Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some Fucking Feelings.

Hisraad had several houses in key locations across Seheron. That is, the Ben-Hasraath had several houses in key locations across Seheron. However, Hisraad had chosen the one they were currently at as his main home after the world had seen fit to deliver Belladonna to him. It was close enough to the border that he could get to developing issues quickly, yet far enough away that he wasn’t constantly in battle.

It had taken them six days of none stop travel to reach it. Belladonna had not slept for any extended period in that time, and she was not planning on allowing herself rest any time soon. Hisraad had only woken now and then, and had been in a haze of pain each time. She did not know how bad it was, but it certainly did not look good. His leg had started to smell at some point as well, and she worried that he would lose it.

She felt weak and useless as the surgeon worked on him.

“It is infected,” the man said, softly. She closed her eyes for a moment, she had thought as much but it did not help to hear it out loud. She was so tired.

“What can you do?”

“I will most likely be able to save him. It is not as bad as it looks, but it is not good either. Come, I will need you to hold him down if he wakes. I don’t dare sedate him, he is weak as it is.”

Belladonna obeyed. Fortunately he did not wake.

The surgeon lanced the worst part, and she curled her lip as pus and blood squirted out. She turned away. The surgeon drained the infection, and then did his best to fix the leg. She winced when he set the bone again. She had not done well enough. “They tore most of the muscles of his leg. I don’t know how much I will be able to fix, and even then we won’t know how much mobility he will have until after it is healed.”

“Will he be able to walk?”

“We won’t know until after. At the worst he will lose the leg, at best he may have a slight limp.”

Belladonna did not say anything to that, and she was too tired for the red to make itself known. The surgeon stitched the wound, smeared salve across it, and then bandaged it. Along with the leg Hisraad also had a number of broken ribs, and deep cuts. The surgeon gave her a number of potions before he left and strict instructions on Hisraad’s care. “If the smell returns, or if he gets feverish get me immediately.”

She nodded to that, and draped a cool cloth across Hisraad’s brow.

She was unsurprised when he developed a fever. The surgeon came and gave her several more instructions and potions. She spent the next two and a half weeks tending to him. Again she did not sleep for any extended amount of time. She kept waking to check on him, give him his potions, change his bandages, or any number of things.

And then, one day, she woke to check on him to find him awake already. That is to say, truly awake. He had drifted in and out now and then, but this was the first time his eyes were focused. “Hisraad,” she said, and went to him.

“Get me paper, a quill, ink,” he said. She paused from his rough, hard tone.

“You must re-“

“Obey Katari,” he snarled. She turned, and obeyed. She was too tired to argue. She brought him the materials, and he wrote quickly. He usually took his time to think out his letters because they were only ever reports. But he did not pause. He just wrote.

He shook it before folding it. He did not take the seal and wax she had brought over for him. He handed it to her. “Send it.”

She looked at it, and at him. “Hisraad-“

“Obey,” he snapped. She bowed her head, and brought the letter to the crow master. She saw the crow off, and returned to Hisraad. He was asleep again.

She, assured by him being awake, finally allowed herself to sleep.

His mood did not improve as his leg healed. He had developed a terrible limp, and could barely stand without pain. He began drinking both alcohol and potions to dull it. Belladonna began turning away those seeking him for orders, or making something plausible up for them to do. She tried to act as he would, to be what Hisraad needed. Eventually she issued an order to recall the progress they had made to Alam, and most of the land they had taken was deserted.

Gatt was the only one she couldn’t keep away, but he grated on Hisraad worse than his new pain.

“You cannot keep drinking all day!” Gatt told him not for the first time. Hisraad was sitting on the back porch of the beach side house, already a few bottles in. “We’ve training, and missions, and-“

“They don’t matter,” Hisraad huffed, and took another slow drag of the bottle. Belladonna gently took it from his hand, and returned to trying to shave his face. He allowed her to put the shaving cream along his cheeks and neck, but caught her wrist when she lifted the blade.

“Hisraad,” she said, gently.

“Be gone, both of you. Let me be,” he snarled, and pushed her away. She stumbled, but caught herself. She set aside the razor, and towed Gatt away. She left Hisraad, sour smelling from his neglected hygiene and booze, on the porch.

“He is killing himself,” Gatt said, tears in his eyes.

“He is doing no such thing,” she said, savagely, and pulled him along to the small town the house was near. It was under qunari control, but not truly a qunari town for most of the inhabitants were not converts. They got paid for their services, and were offered the chance to come under the qun. However, this was one of the newer additions to the qunari’s foothold in Seheron, only a few years, and Par Vollen did not wish to risk it with dissent from the peasants. Belladonna had thought it foolish before, but Issala had shown her otherwise.

The two of them made their way to the barracks for the antaam assigned here. She gave out a number of orders under the guise of them being Hisraad’s. They were accepted despite her ever present worry that they would not be. Simple orders: be present for this exchange of supplies, patrol here, secure this, push small attack parties out of there, and the like. She’d half a mind to send Gatt elsewhere, but he knew the orders were not from Hisraad. He would not obey her.

Belladonna went to the forge next. It was calming to continue working on the brace she was making for Hisraad. She had presented a few to him, had him try them, but he kept claiming problems with them. Part of her knew that he was making them up, that part of him was refusing to heal and adapt, and that there was nothing wrong with the braces. But she kept trying to make them better anyways. She did not know what else to do. She did not know what he needed her to be.

“I’ve seen it before. I some of the other slaves that I knew, that belong to the same man I did. They gave up after a while, would do nothing ordered of them until they were killed. They broke,” Gatt said. She turned to glare at his miserable, certain face.

“Hisraad is not a slave, he is not broken,” she snarled. Gatt continued to look at her, and she glared at him until he admitted defeat. He looked away.

The words stuck with her that night when she put the new brace on Hisraad’s leg. Gatt had just left, furious, because Hisraad himself had assigned him to another town. Away from them, nearly the other side of the island. It had begun to rain. It was growing to be a savage, tropical storm that promised thunder and lightning, and enough water to make the ocean overfull. She only hoped it did not flood their house. She had helped him inside, and he sat on one of the few chairs in the building.

“How is this?”

“It is too tight,” he said between sips of his drink. She took a slow breathe, in and out, and then another. “And rough. It will leave blisters.”

“I will add padding, and loosen it,” she said, softly, and tried to estimate how much time that would take. A few more hours, at least.

“Do not bother wasting the resources,” he said before finishing the bottle. She looked up at him, looked at his sunken eyes and his unkempt face. He smelt, he had not bathed in some time. The only clean thing was the bandage around his leg, solely because she changed them daily though they were largely unneeded now. They were tired, the both of them.

“I could loosen it, and then it could be worn over your pants instead of-“

“No,” he snapped. “Bad enough to have a limp, don’t need everyone seeing that ugly hunk of metal too.”

“I can make it more beautiful, if that would please you,” she snapped back.

“It would please me if you’d leave it well enough alone. It is ruined, won’t get better no matter what you do to it.”

“Just because it is doesn’t mean you are,” she said while trying to reign in some of her irritation. He did not need her anger.

“Oh no, I’m still usable. A broken tool to be melted down, and shaped into something else,” he said, bitterly, and pulled another bottle towards himself. “Expendable when dead, but useful when alive. Just like everyone else.”

Belladonna stared at him. She did not know this bitter, apathetic man. She did not know what he needed. “Gatt said you are killing yourself,” she whispered.

“What of it?” He did not look at her.

Belladonna closed her eyes for a minute. She tried to figure out what it was he needed. “You are not broken, not just a tool that-“

“I am, as are you,” he said. His voice was low with warning, one she ignored.

“You are more than-“

“No, _Katari_ , I am not. I am a tool, a weapon, just like you. I am meant to be wielded as such. Choosing not to wield takes away my purpose. A sword on a wall as decoration is empty, has no meaning. That is what I am now. And what Par Vollen made you,” he said. He stood as he spoke, and pulled a letter from his pocket. “We are all expendable. The Tamassarans and children I was meant to retrieve, Tats, Milo, Barrel, West, Dirk, all of them, they meant nothing. They were not given the honor of being given worth. Par Vollen refused to allow me to take the price of their blood from Tevinter.”

Belladonna did not speak. He was looming over her. His breath was sour with drink. His lame leg was shaking with the threat of giving out.

“You are a weapon, a killer. Those outside the Qun would name you a monster, but we know better. You are the one that brings death. Nothing more. And when I demanded they allow me to send you to Alam, to kill every person there, Par Vollen refused. They denied you your name,” he bit out each word. “We, all of us, mean nothing. We are worthless without cause. And we do not have one.”

“That isn’t true,” she whispered, and he shoved the letter at her. She took it with numb fingers. She read Par Vollen’s denial of allowing Hisraad to send her into Alam, to let the red take her, no matter the cost. She looked up at him. Her breath was caught in her throat.

He was going to send her, mad with the red, to kill without choice?

He stared her down, and took another drag of his bottle. She couldn’t find words, and any that presented themselves got stuck in her throat. She didn’t know what he needed, didn’t know what to do for him.

_Kadan,_ echoed miserably and pained through her empty fucking head.

He spat to the side, limped past her, and out the door. She did not move to stop him.

How long had it been- Two years? Three?- since she came to him? Long enough for countless promises that she was not a beast, not a monster, not a weapon, not a thing that brought only death despite her name. And he was going to send her to Alam to kill all those people without giving her a choice. She read the letter again, held it at her side, and then once more. She closed her eyes, and let it fall.

“Kadan,” she whispered in the empty house, barely hearing herself over the rain. Her kadan was gone, pulled so far away from her, out of her reach.

If only she could-

Belladonna opened her eyes. She knew what he needed.

When they first met, the first time, she had tried to kill him and it was pure luck that she didn’t. It had been the first rage, and had been brought on by whatever it was that the Tevinter blood mages had done to her. When she awoke she had been on a beach by the rotted corpse of a dragon. She had tripped over one of the teeth that had fallen from its gums. It had meant nothing then, she had grabbed it out of reflex, but maybe there had been something to it at the time. Made her consider the Maker she had never put much stock in.

She took the tooth again, down from where it had sat on a shelf collecting dust, and she went to the forge.

When Belladonna went for him she found him down by the surf, and standing ankle deep in an angry ocean. She barely stopped herself from running to him, from dragging him away from whatever it was he was considering. That is not what he needed.

Hisraad tensed when her hand touched his shoulder blade. She pressed her forehead to his spine. They stood that way for some time. “You are not just a weapon or a tool,” she said loud enough that he could hear her over the fury of the storm, “at least, not to me.”

She pressed the chain the dragon tooth dipped in obsidian hung from into his hand, which tightened onto it. She stayed for a few moments more, and then forced herself to walk back to the building that was, for now, their house.

She could not make this choice for him. It was his, and his alone to make. Still, she kept the soup she had made for dinner, and he hadn’t eaten, over the fire to keep warm. It was his choice to make, but he would not need to be alone after he had made it. Belladonna forced herself into her hammock though she did not sleep.

She was awake when he came in. She did not move, just listened as he limped around. He ate some of the food, set something heavy on the table. She closed her eyes against the relief she felt. He touched her shoulder, and she rolled so that she could look up at him. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He looked at her as if it was the first time he had seen her, truly seen her.

Wordlessly she reached for him, and, despite the fact he was not wearing the necklace, he bent down to her. His skin was cold, and wet under her hands. He slid an arm beneath her, and lifted her. His grip was tight enough to bruise, but it hardly mattered. He took one step, let out a pained grunt, and they both went down.

“It’s alright,” she said. “It’s alright.” Her hands found his leg in the dark. Her fingers traveled the length of the scar. It started just behind his knee, and wrapped around to the front to stop at the beginning of the top of his foot. The skin was puckered, gnarled, and uneven. He had lost the bandages.

He pressed his face into the junction of her neck and shoulder as her fingers sought out the worst of the pain. She pressed, dug when needed, and did her best to chase it away. His leg was uneven now from where the surgeon had been unable to stretch the muscles back into place and attach them again. They grouped oddly under his skin.

He slowly relaxed under her ministrations, and she found him pressing soft kisses to her neck. His beard scratched though not unpleasantly. He swiped his tongue once, twice, sought out how to touch her as if learning it over again. Eventually his mouth made its way to hers, and they were kissing. It was slow, lazy, a simple slid of tongue across tongue. They did not need to rush, they had all the time in the world. He had salt on his lips from the spray from the ocean, or perhaps from submerging himself. She would not ask, it did not matter. He was here now.

Hisraad loosened her shirt, and worked it off her. It took only one of his hands to engulf her breast, and he gave a gentle squeeze. His hands, and the rest of him, grew warmer. He was nearly dry by the time he guided her back, and they worked their pants off. One of his hands stroked slow, and unhurried, between her legs. Thunder intermittently interrupted their panting, and soft noises. Now and then lightning would give them a more accurate idea as to how the other was positioned.

His hand became more insistent, a touch more hurried. Her breathing stuttered, and her hips rolled in time with his movements. His other hand circled her throat. He did not squeeze, but it was a distinct weight. He thumbed her pulse.

Belladonna gasped, and went rigid. Her spine arched towards him, drawn as if by rope . He backed off, allowed her breathe, and then urged her on again. The toes of her right foot curled against his thigh. Once again he allowed her calm, but then he dipped his fingers within her until she cried out, and her fingers dug into his back. He replaced the thumb against her pulse with his mouth, and then teeth, and bit her neck.

She was unsure where exactly Hisraad found the oil, but it was cool when he brought it between her legs. It made her hiss slightly, but he did not let it stay cold for long. Soon she was sighing into the touch again.

He guided her legs around him, at last, and guided himself into her body. She shifted her hips to accommodate him, and pressed lazy, opened mouth kisses to the side of his neck. His hips were the ocean when it was calmer; slow, predictable waves. His elbows were pressed to either side of her head, keeping him balanced and allowing him to keep some of the weight off of his bad leg. The ocean of his hips changed, became more insistent, more erratic. The storm of him was brewing. Her mouth found his again, and he bit her lip. The storm seemed to be peaking, and one of his arms departed from framing her face so he could reach between them. She gasped against his mouth as his fingers found her pearl under his waves. She arched again, up against him, as his hips stuttered and then stilled. Warmth spread through her.

They stayed like that together for a time. His arm returned to bracket her head, and balance him. One hand dragged, lazily, through her tangled hair. He worked out knots as he went. His forehead rested against hers. Lightning allowed her to see his eyes were closed, his face more relaxed.

She brought her hands up to frame his face, and pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth. He hummed, softly, and halfheartedly followed when she pulled back. “I will get blankets,” she whispered, and gave him a push that was more a request than force. He rolled back onto his back which allowed her to stand.

When she returned, and covered them, his arm wrapped around her and drew her close to his side. She lay with her back pressed tight against him, one arm thrown back over his stomach, and her other gripping his arm. Her nose was pressed to his upper arm, the hand of that arm found her hip, and his other found the one closest to it.

The thunder seemed more distant now, and the gentling of the noise of it allowed them to sleep.


	10. Better than Imagined

Belladonna was not… comfortable on boats. It had been a boat (and her own stubbornness but she was too stubborn to admit it) that got her into this whole mess to begin with. The first, and last, she had been on had capsized in a storm. She had been picked up by Tevinter mages shortly after, and they had been the ones to bring her to Seheron. Even though her only complaint with her life at the moment was that every now and then she killed everyone around her she was still uncomfortable on seafaring vessels.  The storms that frequented this time of year did not help.

“You’re looking a little green, Katari,” Hisraad mentioned, and came to lean next to her. She was currently half hanging over the side of the ship. Her stomach was rolling, and she only managed to grunt. He rubbed her back. “Par Vollen is not far off.”

“You said a week,” she said, burped, and decided to keep her mouth closed.

“That isn’t all that long,” he chuckled, and she grunted.

They had left Seheron two days prior, and that had been nearly a week after she had given him the necklace. He did not wear it, and they did not speak of it. However, he did begin to wear the brace, and he ate, and bathed himself, and it was almost like Hisraad was back. He would still fall into apathetic stretches that made her skin prickle with nervousness, and her stomach clench; however, they seemed to always pass. He had told her that he intended to return to Par Vollen to be re-educated. That had led to them arguing about her being left behind. She eventually won.

“It will be dangerous. You will be tested, and if you fail, you will be killed,” he had said before they left, a last ditch effort to get her to remain. She had snorted at him, and gotten on the boat.

She wished she hadn’t gotten on the fucking boat.

He held her hair back as she heaved again. “You should go see a Tamasarran, Katari.”

“I’m not going to let them knock me out for the trip,” she protested, and spat.

“Perhaps they have something to soothe your stomach.”

“They’ve already tried it,” she said. He hummed, and rubbed her back. It was a comfort, even though it did nothing to calm her stomach.

“You should have stayed with Gatt,” he sighed, and ignored her growl. Gatt had been furious. Hisraad had recalled him, and explained. He had set him under the firm, but gentle hand of another agent to oversee Gatt’s Ben-Hasraath training. Only the prospect of Hisraad’s return had kept him in place.

She let out another noxious burp.

“Come here,” he sighed, and picked her up. She protested weakly, but he simply brought her down into the barracks. He set her on one of the hammocks. “I’m going to get something to get you to sleep, and,” he held up his hand to stop her from speaking, “And you  _ will  _ sleep. This isn’t up for debate. No need to have you dead on your feet when we get to Par Vollen.”

“Very well,” she grumbled. He hummed, and went to do as he said. The potion wasn’t pleasant, but the warmth that followed along with the sleepy haze that came after were. Afterwards the trip was more or less bearable where she only woke long enough for Hisraad to make her eat and drink something before another potion brought blissful sleep to her. Now and then he would have her move about to keep from losing muscle tone, but those were marked by the unpleasant swaying of the boat.

Eventually she woke, ate, and drank but he did not provide another potion. “Par Vollen is on the horizon,” he said, his eyes sparkling, “Would you like to see her?”

“Yes,” Belladonna breathed. Despite the clenching of her stomach, and the sour taste in her mouth, she did want to go see it. He helped her up on deck because, even after all this time, she still did not have her sea legs. Once topside he directed her to the prow of the ship to see where the nose was pointed. She shaded her eyes against the rising sun. There was an undeniable landmass.

Hisraad leaned by her, and threw an arm over her shoulders. “I cannot wait for you to see her, Katari. Par Vollen is lovely, the most beautiful of places. Jungle, but not untamed like Sehereon. Coconuts, bananas, chocolate, and spices found nowhere else. Ah, and the cities themselves. We have plumbing like nowhere else either! Pipes that bring water straight into the baths, nice organized houses row by row, and everything so nice and neat. No fighting, no chaos like,” he trailed off into a tense silence. Worried, she put a hand on his chest.

“Will we be going to your home? Do you have one?” she asked, frowned, and looked back at the approaching landmass.

“Yes and no,” he said. “Not one that is officially mine, as I am not someone who usually spends extended amounts of time in Par Vollen, so it would be a waste to give me my own permanent home. However, there are a number of Ben-Hassrath appointed homes to be used for agents spending time on home turf. One will be assigned to my use.”

“I will remain by your side, yes?”

He was quiet for a span. “There will be a test first,” he said, softly. “The Ariqun, essentially my boss, wishes to meet you.”

A thrill of fear shot up Belladonna’s spine. “What will the test be?”

“I’m not sure. I have ideas, but,” he sighed harshly, and spoke no more. She tried to relax in his hold, to bathe in the smell of him. He could control her, that was all that mattered, and she was sure of that despite the red creeping into her vision. Whatever it was that his superior wanted, all he would need was to ask it of her and she would obey.

At least, that is what she told herself.

The two of them stood there watching Par Vollen grow larger and larger against the sky. His hold tightened briefly, before he released her. Her stomach rolled, but not solely from the rocking of the boat.

After so long dealing with the movement of a boat her legs felt like jelly, and unaccustomed to solid land. The crew of the boat were efficient in a manner only qunari can be. There was nothing for her and Hissrad to do, so they did not linger. He helped her along until her legs no longer threatened to give out. “We take horses from here. The capital is a day’s ride away. We will arrive at dark, or a bit after.”

She nodded. She was too struck by the beauty of his homeland to speak.

During her youth she was told stories of the Qunari like all children are. Her child’s mind painted Par Vollen to be a desolate, somber place where the people walked from work to simple homes with blank faces. This was not the case, as she could now see with her own two eyes.

They walked from the port to, where anywhere else, would be a bazaar. Only here no one paid for anything. Food was given freely to those that asked, and frivolities like colorful stones and flowers were traded for items of use or of equal frivolousness. Hissrad had told her that Qunari do not have an economy like anywhere else, that they did not have any currency. She had mistaken this for them not having any trade, but they just did it differently. And the noise! A small group of teenage Qunari, and a few Viddathari had set up an impromptu band along the edge of a fountain. Children, under the hawkeyed gaze of their Tamassarans, played in the fountain. A few adventurous ones got the band to show them how to use their instruments. One even had a parrot that bobbed along to the tune. Those from the booths with their goods shouted to those they recognized, and did not, urging them to come try their wares. Food vendors had a good natured rivalry going on, trying to see who could get the most to try their kebabs, or their breads. Even those that were armed, either of the army or of the police, did not make the place look oppressed. It looked like any other city, but calmer despite its liveliness. With a jolt Belladonna realized it was because it felt safer. There were no shouts of thieves, and alleys, in the few places there were some, were not clogged with trash or the destitute. The buildings were not weathered and worn, but were made of pale stone. Many had added colors to them, and had flowers in window boxes.

Had Hissrad not taken her by the elbow she would have been left behind to gape at the place.

“Impressed Katari?” he asked, smiling, and she nodded, awed, and didn’t even look at him. Instead she had focused on a number of the food booths. The smells of them hit her, hot and fresh and free. She swallowed.

“Ah! Back from afar are we?” someone shouted, waving something that caught Hissrad’s attention. He hummed appreciatively, and changed course to go to the booth. She followed, pulled from the food though her belly gave a mournful groan. There was a protest of red in her vision, but she pushed it aside in favor of seeing what it was that distracted Hisraad.

“Not so afar, but far enough,” Hissrad said, taking the offered jar from the much smaller quanri man. His horns curved back along his head, and were smaller than most of the qunari she had seen. He was more human in appearance as well. Hissrad opened the jar and Belladonna caught the scent of honey and wax, along with some other things she couldn’t place. Hissrad reached up and smeared it along his horns with an appreciative groan.

“Confused yes? Horn balm, something no Quanri should go without,” the vendor said to her with a smile. She did not smile, but she did not scowl either and he laughed. “Ah a Viddathari after the Arishok’s own heart yes? So stern,” he said, and made a serious face at her. Hisraad burst out laughing, and put a hand on her head.

“She can be amusing when she chooses to be. May I have this?”

“Please, you seem in great need of it. Did they not send any with you? Take two my friend!”

“No no, one will suffice. I am for Par Vollen proper, and there will be plenty there. Would not want to take too much.”

“A pleasant man you are. May your answers come easy friend.”

“And yours,” Hissrad rumbled back, still pleased with his new item. He slid it into a pocket. Belladonna could not help but marvel at this relaxed man besides her. Even in his most unguarded in Seheron he had been tense. But this Hissrad smiled and laughed with a complete ease. He whistled to the tune of the band as they passed. There were no lines of worry around his eyes.

He caught her staring. “Something on my face Katari?”

“No,” she said, softly, and tore her gaze away. She looked once more out across the tables they passed. Little passed between them as they made their way through the port city. He got them some full wineskins by trading their old ones, and some kebabs.

“They are spicy,” he warned, before tearing a chunk off of his. She sniffed it experimentally, and pulled a small strip of what she discovered was chicken off of it. Spices sparked across her tongue with enough intensity to make her eyes water, and her nose threaten to run. It was…different, but not unpleasant. She quickly followed his pace of eating, and the fine metal sticks were given to another booth to be sterilized and reused.

At the end of the city horses were gathered in exchange for the majority of Hissrad’s equipment. His weapons, his armor, his traveling gear from Seheron were all handed over. The only weapon they kept was Better by Blood, and that was only after he had had a short chat with the stable master about it. “Like a Sten, it is hers,” he had said, and she remembered something about a weapon for a Sten being the only one they got, or something, but not specifics. It was enough for the stable master, who then provided them with two horses. He also gave Hissrad a small bag.

“Please have that sent to the Arigena’s people,” the stable master requested.

“It will be done,” Hissrad promised. He helped Belladonna onto her horse which was larger than what she was used to. She was not eager for the ride ahead, as it had been some time since she had ridden consistently. He mounted as well, and led them out. “Stock information, I am sure you were wondering,” he said.

“I was not,” she lied, and he laughed.

“Everything is traded. My equipment will go to the next person who needs it. When the Arigena’s people get these papers, they will know how many, say horses, need to be sent back to that particular town. Everything is always in circulation.”

“It’s an admirable system,” she said. He hummed in agreement.

“Best in the world. No waste, no fighting. At least, not for the most part. Nothing to worry about, everything will be provided so long as you also provide. But it’s not like elsewhere, where sickness or injury means you are fucked. You are just replaced until you are better, or found a more fitting position. It’s not what you expected, was it?” he asked, and looked at her with a lopsided smile. She attempted to suppress her returning one.

“It is not. More color, and noise, than I imagined.”

“That is what most Viddathari say. What did you picture before?”

“Slave drivers, and deserted streets,” she admitted, and he laughed again. She was tempted to say more, to get him to laugh again, but she did not want to offend him with some of the things her younger self had imagined. That, and she did not forget that she would be meeting his boss before the day was through. It did not help that she was horribly tired from being sick so long despite the fact she had slept most of the trip. If anything she should be thrumming with energy, but she was not.

“Worried?” he asked, softly. She did not respond. “You will do well, you will obey.”

“I will obey,” she agreed. He hummed. Neither looked at each other. “Come, the horses have had their warm up. I would like to be settled into our assigned housing before tomorrow morning,” he said, and urged his horse onto a run. She took a breath, and obeyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is a thing haha.. whoops. school was hell this year.


	11. But not Lacking in Danger

Belladonna was exhausted by the time they made the capital. Well, one of them, anyways. On the journey Hisraad informed her more of the inner workings of the government. There was a main city in the very center of Par Vollen called Qunandar, but the Triumvirate only met there twice a year (or when something important came up). Otherwise they traveled separately between three sub-capitals that controlled the sections of Par Vollen that they were closest to.

The sun had set by the time they entered the city limits, and she was dozing in the saddle. The countryside of Par Vollen had been lovely. Rolling jungles below a mountain path they had taken. Here and there were open fields where shepherds were tending to their flocks of strange cattle and sheep. The trees had often borne fruit, and Hissrad had given her some that was good for lunch.

Hissrad had taken the reins of her horse, and attached it to his saddle so he could lead her most efficiently through the city streets. They were, of course, wide enough that their passing did not inconvenience anyone, but it seemed the style to go in a single file line if you were in a group. At least on the main roads. The side ones had a number of groups going here or there, laughing and joking. If she was more awake she would have appreciated her surroundings more, but as it wsd she was weary from the trip as well as her previous seasickness. 

He paused before a building of many stories, but made her wait with the horses. He brought in the papers for the Arigena. He then returned, but did not remount. He simply led the horses along to a building across the square they were in. She looked up at it, and gave a gentle yawn. He helped her down. “Give me your ax.”

She handed over Better by Blood without protest. She would obey, whatever he asked of her, she would obey. Still, her hand lingered on the hilt.

“It will be returned to you,” he said softly. If she passed whatever test the Ariqun had for her that was. He didn’t need to add that. It hung between them.

Hisraad knocked on the door, and a young qunari answered. He hurried to take their horses. “We will be remaining in the city, they can be taken to the stables,” he told the boy, who nodded in understanding. Then they went into the building. The carpets and wall drapes were in purple, and had the heraldry of the qunari on them. He went up to a front desk, and spoke softly with the young apprentice there. She nodded to whatever he said, Belladonna’s focus had wandered, and the girl pointed them towards some stairs. Hisraad nodded, and gestured for Belladonna to follow. “The Ariqun awaits.”

“What will she ask of me?” Belladonna asked, but he did not answer. He put his hand on her shoulder for just a moment.

They ascended three stories, and stepped into another waiting room. The apprentice there nodded to them, and bowed back through a deep purple door. After a moment she returned, and gestured for them to enter. Hisraad did with Belladonna following.

The Ariqun was a tall woman, Belladonna could see it clearly from where she sat behind her desk. The same height as Hisraad though a fraction of his width. The both of them bowed, Belladonna a second or so after him. The Ariqun gestured for them to sit before her desk, and they did. The chairs were comfortable, and had the same deep purple as the rest of the building. Her desk was cluttered, but organized. Her horns curled back, and then flared out before curving back in. Her white hair fell down her back in perfect waves. Hisraad seemed to relax in her presence.

Belladonna had never felt tenser.

There was coal in the woman’s eyes; dark, unyielding, and ready to burst into flame in a moment’s notice. She was dressed simply in robes the same purple as much of the rest of the building. The outfit left her arms bare, and she had a bit of gold paint on her face. It was lovely, and yet Belladonna was on edge. The softness of the robes were hiding the dagger of the woman’s body. She was dangerous.

“Hisraad,” she said. She had a rich voice, slightly husky, and pleasantly deep.

“Ariqun,” he replied, softly, subserviently.

“Seheron broke you, as it has all others before and to come,” she said. It was a statement of fact. There was no emotion to her voice.

“I’ve come to be fixed,” was his reply. She hummed in acknowledgement.

“Tell me of your last mission. Your letters were tainted by your anger, and unclear.”

Hisraad shifted uncomfortably, and did not speak immediately. She waited him out. “I was betrayed by a viddathari I was too blind not to see unhappy in his role. He gave away our position, and we were captured. We were brought to a coliseum, and,” he trailed off. Belladonna watched him from the corner of her eyes. Her insides twisted at the way his throat worked around the lump in it. “They made us fight after… after a bit of blood magic torture. Demons, each other, and,” he looked away, shifted in his chair.

“You are doing well Hisraad,” the Ariqun said. There was a touch of compassion in her voice, but only just.

“The tamassarans and children we had been tasked to retrieve they had… They had been filled with demons, and,” he took another moment, took a breath, “We had to destroy them.”

The Ariqun allowed sadness onto her face, and stood. She went to a window, and looked out of it. Hisraad slowly got himself back under control. Belladonna risked touching his arm while her back was turned. He took her hand, squeezed once, and she took it back.

“The pain you experienced pains me,” the Ariqun said, and turned back to them. “It cannot be changed now. We will move past it, and those at risk will be taken to more secure locations in Seheron to prevent a repeat of this.” She returned to her desk, and wrote a note which she then folded, and set aside. She herself did not sit. For the first time her attention turned to Belladonna, and Belladonna’s hands clenched on the arms of the chair. Something about this woman made her want to bare her teeth. “That, of course, brings us to your escape. I cannot help but wonder why you thought it to be wise to bring something that, by your own words, could tear an army apart with little effort,” her compassion was gone. She was stone again. Belladonna swallowed a growl.

“I was not thinking straight when I-“

“A machine of war, you said. Nigh unstoppable when having consumed blood. You also have reported not knowing exactly what it is that now sits in my office, digging furrows into my chair,” the Ariqun said, eyes not leaving Belladonna. It was a challenge, one she did not back down from, though she did relax her hands to spare the armrests.

“She seeks peace, and control. If she is not viddathari material than no one is,” Hisraad said. The Ariqun’s eyes flicked to him.

“It is easy to beg peace when faced with death.”

“She-“

“Wait outside.”

Hisraad did not move immediately, but look between the Ariqun and Belladonna. She caught his eyes, tried to beg with her own for him to disobey, to stay. But he did not. He bowed to the Ariqun’s will, and stood. He touched her shoulder for just a moment. “Katari has never done anything but obey,” he said before departing.

The Ariqun stepped around her desk, and Belladonna stood so that she could turn to keep her in sight as she started to circle her. Her hands were feeling distant, and clenching and unclenching on their own accord. This woman was dangerous, but Belladonna was more so.

“How thoroughly you have him fooled,” the Ariqun said, and Belladonna narrowed her eyes. “So, what are you?” She continued to circle, and Belladonna continued to tilt her head to keep her in sight. When no answer was forthcoming she continued speaking. “Some kind of Tevinter spy? An assassin? Will you wait till we all are looking away ,and then strike?”

Belladonna growled, and it gave the Ariqun pause. Not a cautious hesitation, but a guarded, observing one. Red was tinting Belladonna’s vision, and her mouth had gone wet with the thought of ripping out the taller woman’s throat. She took a slow breath, seeking fear in her scent, but there was none. Instead she caught the smell of Hisraad, just behind a door, so close. She closed her eyes.

“You are trying to provoke me, and make me break,” she said, slowly, carefully, in qunlat. “But I hear, and I obey. Hisraad would not want me to kill anyone here, including you.”

She didn’t open her eyes to see if she had offended the woman, but her body was tight in the chance she needed to defend herself. Instead of attacking the Ariqun let out an amused snort.

“He continues to gravitate towards the broken,” the Ariqun said, more to herself than Belladonna. She opened her eyes. The Ariqun still radiated danger, but it had subsided to a whispered reminder against Belladonna’s instincts. Instead she looked genuinely interested as she looked Belladonna over. “He gave you the name Katari, do you find it fitting?”

“For an aspect of my existence, yes,” Belladonna said.

“But not all of you, not your true role, your true name,” the Ariqun hummed, and then shook her head a bit. “Nevertheless it is an acceptable role for you for now, as is your place at his side. I will see this side of you your name fits, but not tonight.” She smiled a little, and looked at the door. “Hisraad thought himself being sneaky by bringing you here immediately after your journey. Too tired to turn. Clever. However, I will not take half measures with you. You are too dangerous to be underestimated.” The Ariqun gestured for Belladonna to follow. Belladonna only obeyed because she moved towards the door, towards Hisraad. Belladonna would like to be in his sight again. He was the chain that kept her attached to the ground.

Hisraad stood immediately upon their exit of the room. “An apprentice downstairs will take you to the house that will be available for your use while in Qunandar. Katari will remain at your side, for now. You will report to the re-educators tomorrow after you break your fast. When you are made whole once more you will be given a new assignment. I will see her true self before you depart Par Vollen,” the Ariqun said simply. She waited for him to bow once more before returning into her office. Belladonna curled her lip as she passed.

“Come, Katari,” he said. She turned her attention to him, and followed as he led the way back downstairs. There they were met by the apprentice. His horns were growing unevenly so one was a bit longer than the other. He bowed to them both, and led them out and down the steps. Hisraad handed Belladonna Better by Blood. Relieved, she put it back at its proper place at her side.

The apprentice led them through the sleeping city to a section of identical houses. These ones were plain, with no coloring despite most of the other buildings they had passed having them. Each one had a bit of space between its neighbor, and seemed to have a backyard of some sorts. The boy led them two rows deep and three houses in. “This house has most recently been inspected, and restocked. Is it acceptable?”

“Yes, thank you. We aren’t in need of anything else,” Hisraad said. The boy bowed again, and departed. When he was out of earshot Hisraad snorted. “Don’t know why he asked, they are all the same anyways. Come.” He led the way up the front steps, and in through the huge door. She followed, of course she followed, and he closed the door behind them.

He caught her arm before she got too far away, and pushed her up against the door. He crowded over her. His hand touched her chin, and she angled her face up without much prompting. Since the necklace he hadn’t, they hadn’t- it was not the same as before.

“You did well,” he finally rumbled. She shivered from the tone, and the praise. They stood like that for a time until he eventually averted his gaze, and stepped back. Her skin felt too tight. She wanted him to slam her up against the door. She knew he would not.

“There is a bath, but I am not about to take one. I can clean up in the morning before I… Before. Right now I want nothing more than a bed that fits,” he sighed, and walked deeper into the dwelling. She closed her eyes, breathed, and then followed. The entrance led into a qunari sized sitting room. It had large windows that showed the backyard. There seemed to be a tarp stretched across a stone patio. She could not guess the reason for it at the moment. To the right was an appropriately sized kitchen, and washroom. To the left was a bedroom. He spread a blanket out on the couch in the living room, and put another blanket on it. “Will this be alright?”

“Yes,” she said. She slid out of her pants, and took off her shirt. Par Vollen was every bit as hot and sticky as Seheron, and she had long since lost all shame of being nude before him. She folded up her clothing, and set it on the bedside table.

“We will need to get you something else to wear. Those are old,” he said, and yawned. “I will see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight,” she replied, and settled down onto the couch. He closed the bedroom door between them. There was nothing else for it, but to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that they are speaking in qunlat. Later on it will be in common, and qunlat will be marked with italics.


	12. The Keepers of Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah i'm back with this
> 
> some qunlat notes:  
> antaaraad (a word I made up)- assuming an can be used as body (antaam), taar is upholds, and the suffix –raad is keeper of, antaaraad is the keeper of upholding the body. Roughly

Belladonna opened her eyes slowly. There was a low murmur of conversation going on somewhere behind her, and the morning sun was already starting to make the room hot.

She was greeted by a pair of wide eyes on a small face that made her jerk back with a snarl.

The child screeched, making her grind her teeth, and Belladonna shuddered. Red swam in her vision, and she screwed her eyes closed. She heard the child scramble away from her.

_ Not the demon,  _ she thought to herself, trying to calm herself, and took some shaky breathes in through her nose. This had been a boy, and his horns had not been as long. Younger than that creature had been then.

She jumped when something touched her back, but stopped herself from snarling. His scent told her it was just Hisraad. “Good morning Katari. We have guests.”

She grunted in response. After a minute he left her, and the soft murmur of conversation started again. Belladonna opened her eyes, no longer seeing red, and reached for her clothing. She got dressed as best she could under the blanket. It was one thing to be naked in front of Hisraad, that was normal enough for her now, but another entirely to be naked before strangers. Not to mention one was just a child.

She stood, and went to the entrance of the kitchen. An older qunari woman was sitting at the table, allowing Hisraad to pour her more tea. The child had run to her, and was currently pressed against her breast. She was patting his head comfortingly, and absentmindedly. Seeing Belladonna in the doorway, she turned her pale eyes on her. They observed each other. She had some fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, and laugh lines along her face. Her horns were elegant, swept back, and had several gold bands around them. She had a calming, surety to her that was not unlike the Ariqun, but did not raise fury in Belladonna as the Ariqun had.

“Katari, come, sit. This is my Tama,” Hisraad said. Belladonna hesitated, but then bowed to his orders and obeyed. At the introduction she glanced at the woman’s neck. There were multiple small stones with black on them hanging there. All necklaces of Kadan’s made by children? Was one Hisraad’s? Did she still have it? “Tama, this is Katari.”

“I’ve read much about you. I apologize if this little one startled you. It is rare we see someone with hair like yours,” she said. Her voice was cool water, soothing, refreshing.

“It’s pretty,” the boy mumbled, looking over at her with wide eyes. Belladonna half raised a hand to her red hair.

“Like fire right?” Hisraad joked, and she scowled at him. She dropped her hand, and he laughed. He set a cup of tea before her, and some neatly cut fruit and eggs. He then poured himself some, and moved to put the pot away. He twisted just so, and a pained hiss was all the warning they had before he went down. Hard.

The pot shattered.

“You are not wearing the brace,” Belladonna admonished, already at his side. Her fingers sought out his leg, smacking his hands away. She pressed and rubbed until his hand, which had gripped her shoulder, relaxed.

“It was chafing,” he grumbled.

“I will add more padding then,” she huffed, and helped him stand. He did not allow her to assist him in the cleaning up of the pot, but she did not sit until he returned to the table as well. The Tamassaran had stood as well, but sat when they did. She looked pained. She put her hand on Hisraad’s, and he turned it to take hers.

“It is not so bad,” he said. “I still have the leg.”

It seemed to take her effort, but the Tamassaran hid away her look. “You did well on Seheron. None have lasted as long as you in decades. You’ve served the Qun well.”

“You are talking like I have given everything already. I have more to give,” he laughed. Another look flashed across her face, gone before Belladonna could place it. She allowed them to speak, did not interrupt, and ate her food. The little qunari kept alternating from staring, wide eyed, at her and Hisraad. She avoided his gaze as best she could.

“Still, allow yourself time before leaving Par Vollen. I do not get to see you as often as I would like,” the Tamassaran said.

“I will take time, as much as needed, Tama, to make sure that I am where I should be. I am not eager to leave either. I forgot how good the tea here is,” he said, and made a show of drinking and enjoying his. Belladonna sipped her own. It was… odd. Not unpleasant, but odd. Sweet and spicy all in one. The two sensations chased each other on her tongue, and left her staring into her cup.

The Tamassaran laughed lightly, but not unkindly. “You look as a child having your first cup, though I imagine it must be. How is it?”

“I don’t know,” Belladonna replied, and sniffed it. Fire and sugar. She took another sip.

“How is it that you two came together?” the Tamassaran asked.

“The world willed it,” Hisraad said, rolling his cup between his hands. “It is a long story, and unpleasant, but… Well. I listened at the right time, as you taught me.”

_ I don’t know what is wrong with me. I don’t want to die.  _ Belladonna’s first words to him echoed in her head. She remembered kneeling on the floor of his hut, the wood digging into her already bloody knees, and her head bowed as she tried to hold herself together. She remembered him stepping over her, looking down at her from his great height, measuring her even though his face had been hidden by shadows. She remembered him lowering his sword, and how the moonlight caught it. She didn’t remember exactly how she had gotten to him, but she did remember the momentary softening of his eyes when he granted her mercy. By the way his eyes flicked to her, and then away she guessed he was remembering it all again too.

The Tamassaran watched the silent exchange with a neutral expression, but did not make comment about it.

“Katari has proven a good asset, and open to the Qun’s ways. At the very least she is good at following orders, and knowing when to bend them to be most advantageous,” Hisraad said, and ate some of his own eggs. The Tamassaran nodded, and looked at Belladonna again. She looked like she was trying to weigh her worth.

“Then you have done right by the Qun,” she said at last. Hisraad seemed to swell with her praise.

A bell began to ring somewhere far off. Hisraad looked up at it. “It is getting late. Katari, will you retrieve my brace? It is by my bed.”

Belladonna nodded, and was quick to obey. He took it from her upon her return, and started to put it on. Belladonna looked at it with a critical eye, trying to see how it could be improved further to offer him more comfort.

“Katari, you will spend the day with my Tama. She will be seeing to it that you get new clothing, and that you attend some classes for Viddathari. The Ariqun may not have agreed that you are one, but it could not hurt for you to gain some of the learnings of the Qun. If you have need, you need only ask, but her word is now your law, yes?”

“I hear, and I obey, Hisraad,” she said, though she was less than pleased with the thought of being away from him, and with someone she did not know. She would have rathered remain in the house, and waited for his return. He stood, and kissed the woman’s cheek. Belladonna followed him to the door.

“I will return later this evening, and you will tell me of what you saw today and what you experience. Panahedan.”

“Panahedan,” she said. He tutted her expression, and ruffled her hair, before leaving. She closed the door behind him, and let out a soft breath. After a moment she returned to the kitchen. The Tamassaran, Hisraad’s Tama, was cleaning the dishes with the help of the child.

“Put these away, there,” the Tamassaran said, and handed some dishes over. Katari obeyed, and set them in the cabinet where they belonged. “Hisraad has asked that I get you clothing, and we will need to go about the city to do so, as well as a number of other errands.”

“Am I coming?” the child asked, looking thrilled. The Tamassaran hummed, and put a hand on his head.

“I suppose you can, Imek-bas,” she said. The child looked thrilled, and returned his attention to washing the dishes. The Tamassaran dried, and Belladonna put them away. Finally they left the house. She was told to leave Better by Blood behind and, though it made her uneasy, she obeyed.

Belladonna was not completely at ease with the tall horned woman even though she had a pleasant enough energy to her. The child made her uneasy as well, she had never spent much time in the presence of them, and when he reached for her hand as well as the tamassaran’s it made Belladonna jump.

“I thought Tamassaran’s tended to many children,” Belladonna said, and glanced at the woman incase this offered offense. She did not want to offend Hisraad’s Tama.

She merely hummed. “They do, however that title is a broader term for those that tend to others. I am an Imekraad, a child keeper. Now and then a child is born that needs a little extra love. They are born too early, or too late, or need constant attention that they cannot get in a group. Thus they are given to an Imekraad to tend to them,” Imekraad said.

“What is wrong with me?” the child asked.

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Imekraad said, and patted his little hand in hers. “You are just small, so I am going to make sure you grow up big and strong.”

“Oh, that’s good,” the child said. Imekraad hummed.

“Would you like to go to the park Imek-bas?”

“Yes!” he said, and almost pulled away to run ahead, but she caught him deftly by a horn, chuckling. Belladonna frowned a little, but she had been tasked to obey, so she followed. The park was a generous square of land set aside it seemed for the pleasure of the qunari. There was a fountain in the center, and a group of Tamassaran and their charges were playing on some obstacles that seemed to have been set up for children. Imekraad made a motion with her hand to allow Imek-bas to go to play with the other children. Belladonna shifted uneasily. They had tasks to complete, and they weren’t doing them.

Imekraad turned to look at her once she seemed sure the other women had an eye on her charge. Belladonna looked back at her just as evenly. “Hisraad has told me much about you,” Imekraad said, softly. “I’m not meant to receive letters from him, not for his work, but he still sends them from time to time. He knows I worry,” she sighed, and nodded towards a bench. “My legs aren’t as strong as they once were.”

Belladonna pushed away her impatience, and nodded. They took position on the bench.

“Hisraad was my first charge. I had been a simple Tamassaran for some time, but my superiors saw that I tended to focus on one child at a time. So I was made an Imekraad, and given Hisraad,” she smiled and seemed lost in reflection for some time. Belladonna was quieted by her smooth voice, and her beautiful, peaceful face. She turned and looked at her, and smiled. “He was such a small thing, hard to believe I know, but when he was born he would fit perfectly in my two hands. I was afraid he would not make it,” she sighed, and her eyes sought out her current child. “When he was five a Saarabas was brought in to look at his heart, and his lungs. They had not grown properly. It was a problem we had for some time with many children. Many did not make it, born too early, and we never discovered the cause. But Hisraad lived, thanks to the Saarabas. Because of it we were able to save many others. Still, he stayed with me for a long time, and he is still dear to me.”

“I thought… I thought the Qun looked down on this sort of thing.”

“That is what we like to tell outsiders, but the truth is more… complex. We like to have all of those under the Qun to serve it for love of it. That is good in theory, anyways. I believe the only one that works for truly is the Ariqun, and perhaps the rest of the Triumvirtae. In practice everyone else are given their own reasons, or find them. My bond to the Qun is through the children I serve, and served.”

“Oh,” was all Belladonna could think to say.

“Hisraad told me what had happened to him. My heart aches for him. I wish sometimes that…” Imekraad stopped herself. Belladonna waited for her to finish the thought, but she did not. She turned back to her. “I cannot thank you enough for saving him.”

Belladonna looked away at that. Again, she had no words. At least, none she was comfortable with saying. She jumped when Imekraad took her hand, and snapped her eyes back to the sincere face of the qunari woman.

“Truly. In all my time as Imekraad I’ve had thirty-four children in my care. Only two of them have perished. I would not have liked to learn I had outlived a third.”

“I could not let him be killed,” Belladonna said uncomfortably. Imekraad gave her mercy, and released her hand.

“Nevertheless, should you ever need anything seek me out. I will do all I can to assist you.”

“Thank you,” Belladonna said.

They sat together for some time watching Imek-bas play. Eventually the Tamassarans called their charges together. Imekraad brought Belladonna and Imek-bas along, and Belladonna sat in for a lesson about the Qun. It seemed to be made up of a lot of circular logic such as peace with oneself is found in service; service is found in peace in oneself. Belladonna started to get an idea as to why everyone would need to find their own reasons. The children were then ushered into a cafeteria for lunch. Imekraad spoke to a Tamassaran who only had one pair of gold bands on her horns (“A way to identify station immediately,” Imekraad informed when Belladonna asked), they left Imek-bas in the capable hands of the other Tamassarans, and went to do as Hisraad had asked. Imekraad saw that Belladonna got two outfits, and that they were fitted correctly. One was a dress that left her arms and a somewhat scandalous amount of her sides bare. Underneath it went a pair of baggy pants to make the slits up the sides of the knee length skirt less risqué. The other was an outfit much like she had had on Seheron. Pants, and a covering for her chest. The difference here was that the covering was more of a shirt than the breast band from Seheron had been. Both outfits were colorful, and made of a light material that allowed relief from the Par Vollen heat.

Afterwards they got some lunch, and something to drink. Imekraad proved to be as calming a presence as Belladonna had felt, and she became more comfortable in her company.

“Will Hisraad be alright?” she asked. The question had been gnawing at her all day. “I have heard… unpleasant things about the re-educators.”

“Hisraad will be well. He turned himself in, and seeks the peace the Qun offers. They will help him with that.”

Belladonna nodded, and looked around for something, anything, to take her mind off of it. She saw some flowers in a small garden, and how some of the architecture was beautifully, if simply, carved.

“I never pictured Par Vollen so…” Belladonna gestured lamely for the right word. “..pretty.”

This made Imekraad laugh again. “I do not blame you. I doubt those abroad do much to seed the thoughts of our people making something beautiful, or that we can appreciate it. But we can, and do. We just do not flaunt it as others do. We are not opposed to beauty being brought into anything so long as it does not lead to lack for anyone, or weakness. Come, let me show you the artists district.”

Belladonna nodded, and followed. Imekraad showed her paintings, pottery, carvings, and so much other things she never pictured being made by silver hands. “All serves a purpose,” Imekraad said.

“How do paintings serve a purpose?”

“They boost morale, some teach a lesson, and it makes things more pleasant. We are efficient, that does not mean we strive to make ourselves unhappy.” Belladonna did not miss the way Imekraad kept including her: we, not me. “Did you know we have pets?” Belladonna’s skeptical look made her laugh again. “It is true. There are cats everywhere. They are useful creatures, and keep mice out of our stores. Birds are popular as well, and dogs, though they are more for farmers and hunters. There are Ben-Hassrath that, a long time ago, did a study on the quality of life with and without pets. Ever since they have been allowed. They make people happy. There is nothing wrong with that so long as they also serve a purpose. Birds are often able to pass messages, or sing. Cats, as I said, eat mice. Dogs are used for herding, and guarding our herds.”

They both allowed silence to fall between them as Belladonna processed this information. Now that she was looking for it, yes, she did see animals. Cats were common, though hard to spot. They tended to stay out of the way except when they decided they wanted attention. Someone always stopped to scratch a furry chin. Birds were the second most common ranging from carrier crows to brightly colored exotic things. She only saw two dogs, and they seemed to be with a herder bringing in some cattle for slaughter.

So caught up in her search for pets she nearly walked into Imekraad when she stopped. “Hisraad also requested that I bring you here,” Imekraad said. Belladonna looked at the building they had stopped before. It had two statues before the door, tall so they could easily be seen. They were both nude qunari one man and one woman with their hands raised. A red banner hung between their hands, and the ends fluttered now and then in the weak breeze. The building itself was cream colored with pink edging, and all the windows had heavy curtains. There seemed to be a rooftop garden.

“What is this?” Belladonna asked.

“The House of the Antaaraad, or a house of pleasure. Hisraad has told you how such liaisons work under the qun, yes?”

Belladonna cleared her throat. “He asked you to bring me here?”

“He told me that one of the things that helped you keep yourself in Seheron was frequent bouts of exhausting sex,” Imekraad said bluntly. Belladonna looked at her. She was more concerned with the fact Hisraad may have mentioned her condition more than him speaking to the woman he considered his mother about her sexual activity. “He thought it best to give you the same options here.”

“Ah,” Belladonna said, and looked again at the building. Hisraad had spoken rather fondly of these sort of places, about the things they could do, and he  _ had  _ asked Imekraad to bring her here. Did he want her to have sex with a bunch of Antaaraad?

Belladonna scowled at herself. Hisraad never had had particularly strong feelings one way or another about who she slept with or not. It had been him in the first place that suggested she find someone to warm her bed to exhaust herself, and had offered suggestions as to partners, but he had never ordered her to do it. He had always made it very clear that was her choice.

As such she did enter the building, if only to look. Imekraad left her when Belladonna seemed less than eager to leave, and told her she would return within an hour to collect her. Belladonna was not unpleased that she had departed. Sex was different here, but still, she did not like the idea of being watched over by Hisraad’s mother while a very, very skilled woman tasted between her legs and Belladonna herself sampled a man. The House of Antaaraad was everything Hisraad had said it would be if not more. Belladonna was slack with pleasure by the time Imekraad had come to collect her.

She laughed at Belladonna’s disheveled appearance. “They would not stop playing with it,” she said, crossly, and tried to untangle her hair. The Antaaraad had been entrapped by her hair, had insisted on braiding it and combing it and just touching it.

“I cannot blame them, it is a lovely color. Red is so rare here. Oh and it is very soft,” Imekraad said once she had joined her hands in helping Belladonna with a horrible tangle. Imekraad had collected Imek-bas, who insisted on helping. Thus they returned to the house that as currently Hisraad’s, and found a brush.

When Hisraad returned he laughed to see Belladonna’s hair in several braids of varying sizes and tightness, and a pleased Imek-bas. Belladonna was left to his mercy while Hisraad and Imekraad made dinner before she was released and allowed to eat.

“Katari never once let me braid her hair,” Hisraad said conspiratorially to Imek-bas who seemed to swell with the thought he had gotten to do something a Ben-Hassrath hadn’t.  Belladonna did not feel the need to inform him, or anyone at the table, that the only reason he hadn’t was that he hadn’t expressed an interest until after Belladonna’s traitorous mind had produced kadan. It was safer, at the time, to leave such domestic things far away from their interactions. At least with rough sex she could lose herself.

All at once Belladonna was in a bad mood.

Dinner passed by relatively calmly, with Hisraad bursting into laughter when Imekraad commented on something some children had done. Belladonna didn’t catch it, and Hisraad’s laugh made her flinch in surprise. She volunteered to clean up the dishes so that Hisraad could escort Imekraad home. It wasn’t to protect her from anything, certainly, but more that Imek-bas had fallen asleep after the meal when the two other qunari had been talking. Imekraad had commented she was getting too old to carry him, so Hisraad had offered.

Belladonna washed the dishes quickly, and put them away. She paced for a bit, feeling restless. She wondered if she could find her way back to the House of Antaaraad, and decided against it. This was not the worst restlessness she had felt, and it would not lead to a break within her. Besides, Hisraad would return soon and he-

He would what?

Belladonna swore at herself, and pulled off her clothes. She threw them aside, and threw herself down onto the couch. After a few minutes she sat back up and folded the clothing neatly. Imekraad had made sure she had gotten them, and they were nice. It would be wasteful for her to ruin them due to a tantrum brought on by…whatever it was that brought this on.

Belladonna tried to name the feeling within her, but she couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t anger, she wasn’t mad at Hisraad for anything. Not sadness either, it did not sit in her chest like sadness did. Fear seemed closed, but she was not breathless with it nor did she feel the need to hide. No she just wanted to move, to chase or be chased she wasn’t sure, she wanted- she needed-

Belladonna groaned, and threw herself back down. She decided all she needed was to sleep, that in the morning she would be more grounded, she supposed.

It turned out sleep was not what she needed.

She jerked awake in the middle of the night, heart racing and in a cold sweat. She smelt, and tasted blood, and her blood went ice with fear until she realized it was her own. She had bit her lip in her sleep. She had done it hard enough that her mouth, chin, and pillow were now bloody.

Belladonna was several steps towards the kitchen when she stopped, and sat on the cool stone. She had dreamt of- of what?

Blood and fire and pain, all twisted together into one mass that made her skin crawl. There had been her father’s face, and it had melted, had reshaped into an amalgam of what she had remembered of the Tevinter blood mages that had done whatever it was they had done to ruin her. Then it had split into two, into her brothers demanding why she had left them to their family. Then, Hisraad carrying a child that, when it lifted its head, had soulless black eyes that whispered ‘a broken thing a broken thing’ over and over while the world was swallowed in fire and ash.

Belladonna gripped her hair, and pulled. A shudder ran through her, she needed-

Hisraad woke instantly when she opened his door. He did not relax when he saw it was her, and did not speak. Neither did she. She went to him, and crawled into bed besides him, and pressed into his side. When he felt her trembling he did relax, and held her tight.

“I smell blood,” he said, softly. She didn’t reply, and he felt along her face until he found her split lip. He pressed on it to stop the bleeding, and she focused on the sting.

Eventually she calmed enough that the panic subsided. Then she just felt exhausted. “A bad dream,” she finally managed. He didn’t say anything, but ran a hand up and down her back. She spoke, softly, about what it had been. She did not dwell on the Tevinter face, nor on Hisraad’s own appearance. Those made sense to her, to why she would be terrorized about them. “My brothers would not blame me,” she finally said.

Hisraad did not say anything for a while, and then, “Tell me about them.”

Belladonna hesitated. He had never asked much about her family. It didn’t matter, now that she was technically a part of the Qun she didn’t have any. Still… “Alexander is the oldest, seven years my senior. He taught me how to forge, how to make things to do whatever it is I need. He loves to create things to make life better for people. He made an improvement to mills that allowed twice the amount of grain to be processed into flour with half the amount of work. It is his passion. He tried to instill it in me, but it never took root. He had these stupid glasses that looked ridiculous, but allowed him to see things magnified to however he wished. It made him look like he had two spyglasses attached to his face,” she said. She was talking in a rush. She had not thought of her family in a while. It was easier like that. But she did, now that she was thinking about them, miss them. Her brothers at least. 

It must be meeting what passed as Hisraad’s family to make her finally think of her own, and the addition of the unidentified restlessness earlier having left her open for unpleasant dreams.

“He would know how to make a brace so effective that you would not feel it, and would never have pain. He is how I knew how to make that one,” she continued, “But he doesn’t have the head for estate matters, or politicking. That is my brother Michael. He taught me the sword and, later on, many other weapons. Said if half the boys in his classes fought like me than we’d never have problems with bandits. Taught me the lance, seven different swords, mace, maul, shield technics, and the war-ax. He would give me his old armor because my father would never allow me to have any made. Alexander taught me how to modify what Michael gave me to fit just right. Michael taught me how to ride, and Alexander taught me how to tend to the horse. I had my first warhorse by the time I was seven, even if he was a half lame old thing. They always took me with them, when my father would allow it, when they would patrol our lands. Michael taught me how to track, and Alexander taught me many uses of many plants. Or tried to anyways. I can identify elfroot and made a passable healing potion, but that is about it.”

She fell silent for a while, and focused on the steady up and down of his hand along her spine. “Alexander is going to hate running our lands, and Michael will grow to hate him for being picked. Alexander is first born, it is his right, but he doesn’t want it. Father is too pigheaded to see it, too set in his ways to let his firstborn step aside for his second. Michael will be married off to a third daughter of a poor lord. We don’t have high enough standing for anything else. If I had stayed I would have been married off to a merchant perhaps, to bear him sons and warm his bed,” her tone grew hard, furious. She made herself relax again. After a while she, meekly, added, “They do not blame me for leaving, I know this to be true. They know I would have hated that life.”

Hisraad did not comment, but continued to hold her to his side until the shaking truly and fully stopped, and she was no longer babbling. Belladonna settled against him, comforted by this strange return to normalcy. It was not the first time he had calmed her from a nightmare. She was glad that, with all that had passed between them, that this at least had not changed.

She realized her restlessness before was caused by anxiety in unknowing where they now stood in relation to each other. They had not spoken of the necklace, or that night she gave it to him. They had not touched more than they were now since then. He had sent her to the House of Antaaraad.

She had not seen the necklace since she had given it to him.

“Perhaps if you sent them a letter it would ease your mind,” he said, finally, even though she had thought he had fallen back to sleep. She nodded against his side. It was a good idea, and one she had no intention of following through with. She would not be surprised if they mounted ‘rescue efforts’ to locate her if she gave any hint about where she was, and they would not be mollified with vague explanations saying only that she was happy and living the life she had dreamed of. Not to mention neither of those were entirely true, and they always knew when she had been lying. No, they would seek her out if she made contact. They loved her too much not to. And that isn’t even mentioning what her father would do if he caught wind of her.

Belladonna sighed, and shifted as if to leave. “You can stay, if you like,” Hisraad said on a yawn, “If it will help.”

Belladonna froze with one leg off the edge of the bed. She almost opened her mouth to ask if that was what he wanted, if he would be okay with that. But Hisraad never spoke a suggestion unless it was something he would agree to, so she forced away the foolish second guesses. After some debate she settled back down against his side. With her face pressed to his shoulder she breathed him in with every inhale, and that soothed her more than her hour with the Antaaraad had.

His continued stroking of her back ensured her descent into a carefree and deep slumber.


	13. Time Together on a Lazy Day

The next week or so continued in much of the same fashion. Belladonna would wake, spend the day with Imekraad and the child, visit the Antaaraad, and then return to the home she was sharing with Hisraad. After the nightmare he asked her if the couch was comfortable, and said that if she would get more rest in the bed then she may share it with him, if she wished. 

There were only two breaks in the routine. One was that she visited a forge a few times to make an improved brace for Hisraad. It took her a few days to get one he was pleased with.

The second was a more significant one even though it only occurred once. Imekraad had seen that they were sharing a bed, and asked about it in her gentle way. Belladonna finally told her about the nightmare.

“Do you often get them?”

“Often enough. Perhaps once or twice a month, always vivid,” Belladonna admitted. They had been rather intense ever since the change that had happened to her thanks to the Tevinter blood mages. She noticed Imekraad’s stricken face, but before she could question it the qunari woman was pulling her along. She took Belladonna to what was later explained as a house of healing. There a Saarabas inspected Belladonna under the watchful eye of their Avaarad. The Saarabas had a silent exchange with their keeper, and then the Avaarad had a quiet exchange with Imekraad who slowly relaxed.

“What was that about?” Belladonna demanded when they left. Imekraad, for the first time she had seen her, look almost embarrassed.

“I apologize, I should not have acted so,” Imekraad said, and fluttered her hands around Belladonna’s shoulders as if unsure whether to touch her or not. Finally she did, and held her by the shoulders. “A few years ago a strange plague started affecting the qunari. It is believed to have been carried back from Seheron by a number of individuals. It is a strange disease that does not weaken anyone physically, but instead makes them more susceptible to demons. We’ve yet to figure out how they managed to do it. It seems to affect the very young and the very old the most, but others aren’t completely safe from it. It is marked by frequent nightmares. I thought…”

“I am not possessed, at least, not by a demon,” Belladonna said. “I believe whatever you had them just do Hisraad had a Seheron based Saarabas do as soon as he took me in. What do the qunari do to the affected people?”

“Isolate them, and watch them. It is the best we can do. They are removed from breeding lines, and given work where they are away from everyone else. Early on people fell quickly to possession, and many were killed by the following abominations.  Unfortunately once the sickness strikes it isn’t possible to help them, and we cannot ask an abomination about their symptoms,” Imekraad said on a sigh. “Usually there is some lingering taint of demons on the person we suspect being affected. We have them examined, and if they are shown to be touched they are sent elsewhere. Even when they seem clear of all signs we still cannot risk allowing them back into the cities. It is too dangerous. Have you ever seen an abomination formed from a Qunari? It is not like the other races. We are strong enough on our own…”

“Have many contracted this?”

“Even one is too many,” Imekraad said, sighing again. They continued on their way. “But, yes, a fair few have. Enough that we encourage all that start having nightmares to be checked. But you are clean, at least, there are no demons lingering around you. I’m sorry, I did not mean to burden you with this sort of knowledge.” Imekraad looked rather forlorn about her earlier reaction, so Belladonna tried to distract her by asking about some other aspects of Qunari culture. Imekraad seemed eager to move to new subject as well.

Belladonna was so used to this routine that she was legitimately disorientated when she awoke one morning to find it hours later than what she would usually leave at. When she rolled over she found Hisraad there still, and he smiled upon seeing her awake. “They are giving me a day to reflect,” he explained quietly. Belladonna nodded, and he reached out to tuck some hair behind her ear. Thanks to a large mound of pillows he was able to be on his side, facing her. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” she said on a yawn and pressed into his hand which had strayed down to ease some hair away from where it was stuck to her face with drool. She grunted and shifted closer to use his shadow to hide from the sun.

“Have you been enjoying your time in Qunandar?” he asked. His fingers found the line of her spine, and traced it lazily.

“Yes. I’ve learned much, and seen more. I like Imekraad,” she said. He let out a pleased noise, and she imagined he was smiling. She had no desire to open her eyes again to see for sure.

“If you wish to sleep more feel free. I am not planning on doing much today,” he said. She hummed, and shifted a tad closer. The two of them dozed for the next few hours, waking long enough to shift into more comfortable positions, and slipping back into a lazy slumber. Eventually they woke in earnest, and got some lunch. Afterwards Hisraad took her into the backyard. She had yet to truly inspect it. He pulled back the tarp that had confused her before, and finally its purpose was revealed. It was a covering for a pool. He laughed at her surprised expression.

“It seems frivolous,” she said by way of explanation.

“We’ve plenty of fresh water, and these ensure that no one will die of overheating,” he said. She snorted, and dipped her foot in. It was as warm as a pleasant bath. She jerked back when there was a splash that got her mostly wet. Hisraad laughed from where he had jumped in at her expression. “Well?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. She scowled, and noted that he was nude. With a sigh she divested her own clothing not that it would do much to keep them dry. Hopefully the sun would work on that while she got payback.

It proved more difficult than she thought it would be. Not that it was hard to splash him, or push him under the water when she put her mind to it, but she was thwarted by the fact he was unfazed by her antics. He just laughed at her. When he finally had enough of it he simple tucked her up against his side, and they lounged on the steps. The sun was starting its downward journey to the horizon. Laziness had crept up on them again, and Belladonna had no qualms about them just sitting there.

“Has it been difficult, your last couple of days?” she asked. His fingers, which were drawing lazy patterns over her shoulder blade, paused for a moment.

“Yes,” he said finally. She tensed. “They have not been unkind. It is merely… I am trying to get my mind back to how it was before everything. It is like if I tried to empty this pool with my bare hands. It’s a long, difficult process. I do not have the same motivations to serve as before.”

“What is it like? The re-educators that is.”

“It isn’t bad. Everyone just hears horror stories about those that struggle, that need to be forced to see. But for those that see that they need to be fixed it is more gentle. Frustrating, but gentle. We sit in a decent sized room on comfortable enough chairs with a table between us. We drink tea, and we talk. We talk in circles, trying to find the break in me and how to fix it. Trying to get my motivation to fit back into place.”

“Imekraad told me that everyone has their own reasons for serving. That hers is for the children she tends to. Maybe the reasons you had before won’t fit because you need new ones.” He made a soft sound of agreement, and they sat together for a bit longer. Finally his stomach rumbled. She laughed at him. “Let’s go eat.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he said, and helped her out of the pool.

The rest of the day passed pleasantly enough. They lounged, they read to each other, and had dinner with Imekraad and the child. Belladonna slept by Hisraad’s side, and saw him off to the Ben-Hasraath in the morning.


	14. Taking up Chains

Belladonna bit back something that was definitely not a whine, would have been somewhere in the vicinity of a moan, and she would never admit close to begging when Hisraad eased his mouth away from her core. He chuckled at her hitched, now desperate breathing but made no further move to touch her. Belladonna could have screamed as she felt, not for the first time today, her orgasm receding. She didn’t scream because it felt too much like losing.

Hisraad had been with the re-educators for another handful of days, and had informed her the night before that he was, as he put it, as fixed as he was going to get. All they had to do now was wait for the Ariqun to make a new assignment for him as he was not being sent back to Seheron. He had also informed her that he was going to spend the entire next day doing his best to make her mindless to anything other than what he wanted her to be thinking about. That he was going to make her forget every word but his name, and what it was to feel anything other than needing him.

So far he had done a rather splendid job of it.

Breakfast was had followed by a quick fuck on the kitchen table. He had not, however, allowed her to orgasm. Nor had he when they didn’t quite make it back to the bedroom, nor when they took a rather pleasant dip in the pool. 

There had been a break somewhere along the line for lunch which, shockingly, did not start with another kitchen table fuck. However, when he caught her trying to get herself off (she had thought she was being rather more subtle than she apparently was) he did punish her. Her ass still felt sore.

Lunch had been followed with a generous serving of his dick.

Now, however, she was bound and hardly able to move. Her legs were folded, calves bound to thighs with three knots bright against her skin on both legs when she tested the ropes. Her arms had been bound behind her back for a span, but he had recently switched them up to the headboard when she admitted it was becoming too much of a strain. That had been a relief. As it was she had a pleasant burn of a gentle stretch in her knees from how her legs were trapped under her, and her lower back would be sore from how she was arching to try to give them some relief. Oh, and she was going half mad from the need to just fucking come already but aside from all that she was relatively comfortable. She was also blindfolded, so when he nipped her thigh she jumped.

“You were drifting Katari, have I lost you interest?”

“I thought I had lost yours since you seem uninterested in finishing what you started,” she replied. He laughed at the growl in her words, and ran a slow lick up her leg before pressing a firm suck to her clit. It made her grunt, and her covered eyes roll back. It also made her curse under her breath because he had waited long enough that they would be building again, not completing anything.

“You know, I’ve heard that this is how some Ben-Hassraath get information,” he said, and let her think on that while he worked between her legs. When he moved away to continue talking she tried to chase him with her hips, but a hand locked on her thigh. He squeezed. There were going to be bruises. “She would get close to a target, bed them, and keep them on the edge all day. They would begin begging, promising anything so long as they got off. When they gave her what she wanted she would finally let them. Well, not always. Sometimes she worked with some real scum, and left ‘em bound and stewing.”

“If you leave me stewing I’ll break your neck,” she said, strained, as he dipped a finger into her.

“Oh I won’t leave you stewing Katari, don’t you worry. I’m just getting you ripe.”

“I think you’ve had me ripe for the picking a few times there. We need to get your eyes checked if you couldn’t tell.”

“Nah, I’m letting this ferment on the vine,” he hummed, and crooked his finger. She hissed, tried to hold still, failed, and he pulled away again. She cursed again. “I am going to get something from the other room. Will you be alright?” he asked, and pressed some messy kisses to her stomach.

“No,” she growled. He paused. “I will be fine. Do not be long.”

“You’ll enjoy what I am getting.”

“Hopefully fully,” she muttered. He chuckled, and she felt his breath across her skin with what felt like every fiber of her being. She had been cautious about the blindfold to begin with. They had tried a collar once because she always enjoyed when one of his hands came up around her throat, but it hadn’t been the thrill she had wanted. It had hit too close to faded memories of a time on a beach, covered in blood, with Tevine mumbling along the edges of her hearing. Both of them had decided that was a no, just didn’t do it. But the blindfold, the blindfold did it. She never knew exactly where he was, what he was doing, what he looked like he was going to do. Even now she strained to hear him moving in the other room, but curse him he could be quiet when he felt like it. It didn’t help that her breath was loud and ragged in her own ears. Even when it started to even out she couldn’t hear him.

Aside from that it was hot. Par Vollen was hot, and she was slick with sweat from the heat and their activities. The room smelt of clean sweat, burnt out candles from an earlier endeavour that left wax on her skin still, and sex. There was the solid smell of him. His smell was almost like a solid thing, chains itself, keeping her grounded and in place. And where the smell of him wasn’t enough the ropes certainly were. She could feel every point they were against her like a brand. They crisscrossed across her legs, and wrapped up above her waist before crisscrossing up under her breasts. Earlier they had circled them as well, and had continued down to her arms to keep them behind her back. He had shortened it after rearranging her arms. Still, she knew she’d have the ghost of the ropes as bruises for a few days after this. Her wrists were being saved from going raw by being bound with leather cuffs under the rope. As it was the only sensation from that she was getting was being restrained, and a bit of unpleasantness from sweat being trapped under it against her skin. She could live with it for now.

“Still good?” he asked as he reentered. She hummed, and turned her head to where she thought he might be.

“If you are taking a bit of time before getting back to it, I would appreciate it if you got my hair off me. It is starting to stick and itch.” They had both enjoyed it being down so he could fist into it while fucking her face, and pulling it at other instances, but that time had passed. He chuckled. She heard him set some things aside on the bedside table before gathering her hair, and braiding it. It made her stupid heart stutter.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said. She heard him pick something up, and then he held up her head. He gave her a bit to drink. After he wetted a cloth, and wiped her down. “Thought a bit of cool down would be good. Legs still good?”

“Yes, though getting a bit restless.”

“Well, I have something for that, just let me finish this,” he said, and chased away some more sweat off of her with the cloth. It hadn’t been bothering her all that much, but the water was cool and pleasant in the heat of the room. Finally she felt the bed shift as he took his place back between her legs. “Do you remember the word?”

“Yes.”

“Say it, just so I know.”

“Katoh.”

“Good Katari,” he hummed, and cupped one of her breasts. His thumb toyed an already sore nipple. “Do you know how dwarves mine in unstable areas?”

“Carefully?” she asked, and rolled her hips in an attempt to get him back on task.

“Very carefully. And with things like this,” he said.

“Things like- Ah!” Belladonna jolted as something smooth slid into her. It was a little cool, though he must have been holding it to warm it. She didn’t get a chance to ask what it was before it started  _ vibrating. _

“Well, they use something a bit more powerful than this,” he said over her gasping, “A dwarven Viddathari showed it to the Qun. The technology has been modified for other, more pleasant means as well as being used for its intended purpose. They take a bit of metal, make it smooth, and etch runes onto it that make it vibrate. It wiggles loose rocks apart enough for workers to pull them apart, or out of wherever they are working without making a cave collapse or an unseen lyrium vein explode in your face. The Tamassarans naturally saw the more… intimate uses of such a device for those that couldn’t get to the Antaaraad. This is a special glass with a bit of metal inside that reacts to a dial on the end. I can make it gentler,” he did which made her whine, “or more intense,” that whine evolved into a moan pretty quickly.

Time bled. He would get her close, and stop. He did it, damn him, three or maybe five more times before removing the glass piece entirely. She lost count exactly. She was shaking at this point, and close to tears underneath the blindfold. She just wanted to come.

“Do you know what time it is?” he asked, gently, and ran a hand down her front in a steadying manner. He switched directions and stroked her side repeatedly. She shook her head, unable to speak. Their banter had died out maybe an hour ago. She wasn’t coherent enough to retort, and her throat was getting rough from her responses to his actions. “Late. We’ve been in here all afternoon,” he said, and licked her belly button. She shuddered, and let out a little gasp. “You’ve been so good today, so good. You are good Katari, you always obey, always do what is best,” he murmured.

“Want to be good,” she slurred.

“You’ve been good,” he assured, and ran his hands up her sides, along her arms, and freed them. He rubbed her wrist, her hands, all the while murmuring nonsense to her and asking her if she could feel her fingers alright. He kissed each one when she assured she could. “So good. Always doing what I ask, what I need even if I don’t know it.”

“Want to be what you need,” she said. His hands paused for a moment before continuing. He released her legs knot by knot. He rolled her onto her front, and gently stretched her legs back out. She groaned, and he was careful to massage feeling back into them again.

“I’m going to give you what you need now,” he said, finally, as he finished digging his thumbs into the arches of her feet to work out the last kinks. She let out something that was between a sigh and a whine. “Just need you to get on your knees for me.”

It was difficult, but she obeyed. He guided her hands to the headboard again so she was leaning slightly. Her legs shook.

Belladonna heard something that sounded like a chain, and tensed up a little. They didn’t use chains, it was something that put her on edge like the collar why was he-

It was a thin loose chain that he secured around her neck. Something cool, thin, and long fell between her breasts. Not a collar, something else, maybe a-

“Ready to come Katari?” he asked in her ear, and her body shuddered.

“Please, please,” she whispered, and closed her eyes behind the blind. The thought of  _ finally _ being allowed to finish was making her lightheaded. He took her hands again, and guided them up to grip his horns before he was, finally, inside of her again. He kissed the junction of her neck and shoulder. One of his hands dropped down between her legs, and the other ghosted across her breasts before pressing whatever it was he had put around her neck to her skin. She gripped as tight to his horns as she could. With her back to his chest, the most she had been touching him since he had blindfolded her, she could feel something bulky between them. It was a tad uncomfortable with it digging against her spine.

He moved, and she forgot about whatever it was.

It did not take long, not with how he had strung her out all day, for her to orgasm. It did not take much longer for her to orgasm a second time. It took a bit more effort for the third.

“Once more for me Katari, once more,” he murmured into her hair. She did, with a sob. He had been so intent on breaking her with need that he broke her with relief.

His hips stuttered before he went still within her, and tense behind her. They stayed like that, bound, until he softened. He pressed kisses along the nap of her neck, and shoulders, before laying her out. She was still shaking.

He wiped them both down again to get some of the sweat off, and cleaned up between her legs. He removed the blindfold, and she blinked owlishly up at him in the dark. He kissed her mouth, before collapsing behind her, and dragging her close to his side. They let their breathing even out slowly.

Softly, so softly it was almost as if he had not meant to say it, or not meant for her to hear, while he still held the item on the end of the chain she now wore, Hisraad whispered, “Kadan.”


	15. A Task and a Test

They didn’t talk about it the next morning, but Belladonna examined her necklace. Slightly longer than her finger, skinnier, and the tip ebony coated. It was elegant, and beautiful, and, when she looked at his part, it seemed to have come straight from the center of his. She wanted to ask if he had made it himself, she figured that he must have, but the expression his face stopped her. He looked raw, and vulnerable. So she had simply touched his face before settling back down into his hold.

Imekraad, missing her young charge this morning, noticed the necklaces right away, and her eyes lit up. However, wise woman that she was, did not ask either of them about it.

Hisraad tucked the necklace under Belladonna’s shirt before allowing her to leave with Imekraad for errands. “It’s better this way,” he said, not looking her in the eye. She held his hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. He hesitated, then kissed her cheek.

“You sure you will not accompany us Hisraad?” Imekraad asked, gently. He shook his head.

“I have things here I must do, write up a true report, some other things. I am expecting a letter from the Ariqun soon, and would like to be here when it arrives.”

“Well, we will bring you back some sweets,” Imekraad said, and accepted a kiss to her cheek as well. Once out on the street Imekraad linked arms with Belladonna, and made a pleased humming noise. “Things are going well then?”

“I believe so. It is difficult for him,” Belladonna said, and she felt torn. She didn’t like him being uncomfortable.

“He was taught against such a thing for so long. It will take time for him to be comfortable with the idea of going against such a basic teaching. I believe it will be best for him in the end. No, leave it,” Imekraad said when Belladonna reached for the necklace. “It isn’t forbidden here, but it isn’t encouraged either. It is… complicated. But with him having been re-educated so recently. Best to keep it hidden.” Her voice was gentle.

“This could be a threat to him?”

“Yes.”

“Then I shouldn’t wear it, I-“

“No, I think you should. He is aware of his choice, and the implications, and you wearing it has huge meaning. He also has no desire to put either of you in danger however.”

“Was this the right thing? I’ve not, I don’t know, ruined him?” Belladonna asked, pausing in the middle of the street. She didn’t want that, she didn’t want it at all. Her limbs shook, and she blinked away the coloring in her vision. Imekraad put her hands on Belladonna’s shoulders to calm her shaking.

“You’ve not ruined him. We spoke a small amount while you were getting ready to leave. You are the reason he returned to us at all, you are his reason for remaining to the Qun. He believes you need him to stay true so he can help you along the path. Such ties are the strongest.”

“Then why aren’t they the ones the Qun encourages?”

“They are also the most dangerous. If you show you don’t need the Qun one day he might follow you away from it. But I don’t believe that will happen. And I know that even now he is reflecting, trying to find how this newness sits in him. It is why he did not come with us,” Imekraad said, and brushed Belladonna’s hair from her face. Belladonna took a slow breath, and nodded.

“I was afraid he… I wasn’t sure if this is what he truly wished. He always focuses so much on pleasing others that,” Belladonna shook her head.

“Fear not. Such a thing is not taken lightly. You just must trust him, in the end.”

“I do,” Belladonna said. And she did.

No wonder she never took a lover in her life before. It was much too worrisome, and tiring. But Hisraad, for him, the effort seemed worth it. She closed her eyes and found herself smiling, just a bit, remembering how softly he had said Kadan the night before. She wished to return the word to him, but it was not the time. It would be too much for him now.

Having calmed, the two of them returned to going about their errands.

Hisraad was waiting for them when they finished. Of course he was, and the sight of him relaxed her even though she didn’t feel tense. He had them sit at the table while he made lunch for them.

“I have received an assignment,” he said between slicing some meat. Imekraad straightened up in her seat and the both of them look at him. His back was to them. “I am being sent to the border of Nevarra and Orlais. I might go along the northernmost edges of Ferelden as well, and dabble in the Free Marches. Not too close to Tevinter of course, but maybe enough to hear some rumors. I will,” he paused, sighed, and continued, “I am going to become a Tal-Vashoth in all but name. Live the life, and ferret out secrets for the Ariqun. There are rumors of unrest coming up, that mages are, well... Darkspawn are being coming more and more active. “

Belladonna stood, and went to him. She placed a hand gently on his shoulder. After a minute he reached up and covered it with his own. Some of the tension left him.

“The Ariqun will see you in the morning. After that we will be departing if you… We will be leaving together. You will be staying by my side,” he said, fiercely. She leaned into him. His arm came around her. After a moment she took the knife from him, and nudged him away. He wiped his hands on a cloth and sat at the table.

“Oh Ashkaari,” Imekraad murmured. “You will be gone so far.”

“I know,” he whispered. Belladonna glanced back to see they had stacked their hands. She turned back to cooking. 

They ate together, quietly. When they finished Belladonna left them alone so that he could have some time with her. It was late by the time they finished. Belladonna stood at his side, where she belong, at the door. Imekraad cupped his face, and he bent his head so she could kiss his cheeks. “You will do well, you will be safe. The path might not be easy for you to find, or follow, but you will not stray for long Ashkaari,” she whispered.

“Tama,” he replied, and closed his eyes. He sounded torn. She pressed her head to his for a moment, and then turned to Belladonna. She took her face in her hands as she had Hisraad.

“And you, you will be safe as well. The path will be before you,” she said, and set her head against hers.

Imekraad stepped back, and took a deep breath. “Keep each other safe.”

“I will write, often, Tama,” Hisraad promised. She nodded jerkily.

“Goodnight, and safe trip,” she said, inclined her head, and turned away. Her eyes had been bright with tears. They watched her go before Hisraad took Belladonna’s hand.

“Come to bed,” he whispered, then, more quietly, “kadan.” Her heart swelled at the word, even with its hesitation. She nodded, and followed him back in. They made use of the bed, who knows how long it would be before they had a proper one again, before going to sleep.

The next day they made their way to where the Ariqun had wished to meet with them. “She’ll want to see your other side. You must control it.”

She didn’t say anything, but took his hand. He squeezed hers.

Once they reached what looked like a training arena they parted to a respectable distance from each other. Her charm was tucked safely into her shirt, and his was hidden safely in his pocket. They went in to meet with the Ariqun.

She was standing in the center of a great round arena made of sand. Training equipment had been moved off to the sides to give them more space. She did not speak until they had reached her.

“I trust you understand what it is I wish to see,” she said.

“We do.”

Belladonna took a deep breath. Hisraad, around her holding her together, chains keeping her to the earth. “I am ready.” And she was.

Hisraad and the Ariqun moved off to the side. Belladoona took another slow breath. She reached for the red, the fire that burned within her unending since the mages and that day on the beach. She remembered the heat of the sand, the sun on her back, the smell of blood. She remembered the sound of a beast coming closer, and pain, so much pain. She had never reached for it like this before, never offered the yielding of her control. She bit her lip til she tasted blood.

The red crashed, slammed into her, and threatened to throw her into space with nothing to ground herself too. Her next breath brought back  the chains of Hisraad, and she was able to see with the red, through it, and did not lose herself.

“Tell it to show me something,” the Ariqun’s voice was far away, but Hisraad’s was clear and loud when he spoke.

“Break this Kataari,” he said, and threw a sword at her. She snarled, caught it by the blade, and twisted it in half. He threw another, and she did the same.

“Give her orders. Will she obey?”

Hisraad obeyed the Ariqun, and Belladonna obeyed Hisraad. Time was meaningless. All that mattered was his voice, and that she moved as he wished. Acted as he willed. Eventually the Ariqun gave her an order. Belladonna snarled, and took a threatening step towards her. Hisraad moved between them.

Belladonna snorted and shook her head. The red started to grow, started to threaten to overtake her and break her chains. With effort she banked the flames back into embers. As with all the other times she felt weak. With more effort she kept on her feet even though her body threatened to give out on her.

“She is safe,” Hisraad said, and went to Belladonna’s side. He offered her an arm for support. She took it. The Ariqun’s eyes were hard, her mouth a tight line.

“So it seems. Though it seems only with you,” she turned away for a moment, and seemed to think. She did not turn back to them. “Very well. She may live, and stay within your care. But if ever a day comes that she does not obey I expect you to do as the Qun demands. Go. Your boat awaits.”

Hisraad nodded, and gave a half bow. He picked Belladonna up with one arm, and carried her out. Belladonna gladly let her face fall into the crook of his neck, and breathed him in. She gladly donned the chains she had dropped.


	16. Not Fast Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> obligatory bull losing an eye chapter

Time passed.

Hisraad took the name The Iron Bull after the first group they were with took to calling him Bull. He wanted it paired with a metal, but silverite didn’t have as good of a ring to it. Belladonna heard him speak her birth name, and oh, didn’t it just sound like something new from his lips.

Time passed.

They joined some pirates for a time on a filthy fucking ship on the stupid fucking ocean before Hissr- the Iron Bull decided they were learning nothing. They left, and took more than half the crew with him. They became a mercenary gang on land (thank whatever powers that be for that) that traveled mostly around Orlais, and Nevarra. Now and then they would come cross the Tevinter border, but never too far in. Rarer still they would head east far enough that they flirted with the Free Marches. Belladonna was never too hurt that they didn’t get close to her old home.

Time passed.

Time passed, and she was happy.

“Maybe we should see if the inn will have room for us,” the Bull said contemplatively while looking up at the sky. It was dark with the promise of a storm. Belladonna shook her head.

“There won’t be enough for everyone in such a small town. Plus we are deeper in Tevinter than normal. They won’t let you stay even if they will do business with you, and remember us from the other times we were here.”

The Bull grunted and looked back at their company. At the moment they were split in two groups to take care of two separate jobs which cut the number from around 100 people to 50. Their half had just finished their job and was going to meet with the others just inside the Nevarren border at a city they frequented. Whenever they came across a place that could hold them all they tended to take actual beds, but this was a small town. There would be ten beds at most if no one else had taken up in the inn. He snorted and gestured with a whistle. Everyone stopped walking and stepped off the road to start setting up camp out of the way.

Belladonna had her own tent that she would put up even though most nights she shared with the Bull. It was nice to have when he stayed up late writing reports, or talking to his Chargers. But this wasn’t one of the nights. Once their tents were set up she joined him as he sat around a fire for dinner. Stitches, and Grim joined them, as did the two new elves they had picked up. One was fierce and loaded with knives, Skinner, and the other a bit on the nervous side and completely not a mage. Dalish she chose to be called. The Bull had been there to see Skinner kill a couple of people in the city they had been operating out of. She had been justified, the nobles had been preying on alienage elves, but it had still caused quite a stir. Dalish had been a slave that, in the mess Skinner had caused, had helped a handful of other slaves escape. She had been knocked out by a guard, and the Bull had grabbed her and Skinner. The two had decided to join the Chargers.

Belladonna liked Skinner. She liked the way she rolled her daggers across her fingers, and her sharp sense of humor. She liked Dalish too, but Dalish could be too loud. Grim and Stitches were nice as well. They were quiet. Grim had been with them since the beginning, from the pirates, and she hadn’t heard the man speak more than seven words. Stitches had joined after, when another group had thought to fuck with the Chargers. In the aftermath Stitches had tried to save everyone who could, friend or foe, and had joined when the Bull offered him a place if he still wanted the mercenary life.

“Might as well. More I can do with you lot than in some city. They’ve got their Chantry to tend to them.” Stitches was odd in his ways. Unless the people were already dead he would help them. Friend or foe. He prioritized the Chargers always, but if he could save a life he tried. Someone had asked him once, why he did that, why he wasted their supplies this way. “Got a lot to make up for,” he had said, and his eyes had been dark enough that no one ever asked again.

Dinner was its usual affair. That is to say, loud. Though not as loud as if they had been out in the middle of nowhere. Wasn’t any reason to get the town guard called on them and ask them to move off when the tents were already pitched. Being half of their usual numbers also helped.

It racked at Belladonna, sometimes, to be so surrounded by people _always,_ but the Bull was there so it was good. Even now when her hand was a tad too tight on her mug he settled his hand on her knee and she relaxed. There was a promise in his touch, and a question, and she nodded just a bit. She saw him smile from the corner of her eye, and everyone else around the fire knew what had transpired. Aside from some eye rolling and snorting they did not mention it.

Belladonna made herself linger so the Bull could eat. He was still uneasy with this life, with being Tal-Vashoth in all but name, but if there was one thing he had allowed himself it was food and drink. It was to excess, but he was healthy and strong. At first he had worried over the softening of his stomach, but then Belladonna had pressed her fingers against and across and had shown him that there was still muscle there. He was much like a sheathed sword now. A protective layer, but iron beneath.

And, in truth, she did not mind it. It made him more comfortable to press against when it was truly cold, and he was happy. She liked it, in fact, the rounding of his stomach. He would not have gotten it if he did not have enough comfort in his role to allow it.

He was happy, and she was happy. Life was good. She had plenty of fights and blood to warm her during the day, coin to slide between her fingers, and the Bull to slide against and warm and be warmed by at night.

A good life made better by falling down next to him after dinner and drink, and both of them making the sure the other was well and truly tired out before falling asleep.

The next day found her watching over the Chargers while the Bull and Stitches had taken a few others to get supplies. Belladonna was overseeing the taking down of the tents, and the packing up. One would think a bunch of grown men and women would know how to pack their things on the pack horses by now, but no, no, they needed kicks in the ass and being snarled at to get it done otherwise it would take all day. This town was one that had been to before often enough that the guards knew them, and would not scold them for lingering. However, there was no need to test tensions.

It was such a regular day with her doing such a mundane task that her eyes betrayed her, denied what she was seeing when she saw the Bull being half carried back towards camp with a bloodied face.

Her shock was gone by the time he started to crumple. She was there, slowing his descent, and getting him sitting instead of sprawled. “Bull!”

“Aah, haha, didn’t get my ax up in time kadan,” he rumbled, his eyes unfocused- no his eye _, just one eye the other was nothing but blood, but-_ “Katari,” he said, sharply. She jerked her gaze from the bloody mass on the left side of his face back to his remaining eye. He switched over to qunlat. “ _Help the boy, make him safe get him looked at help the boy we need to go, I am alright.”_

 _“Kadan-“_ she choked, caught between fear and rage, but his eyes- his eye, _his eye_ \- was rolling back in his head. She stared at him, stunned, before snarling and turning back to the shocked company. “Go get Stitches, now, and find a cart. Steal it, buy it, I do not care just get one. We move in twenty minutes and anyone not back by then is being left.”

Her snarl got them moving, immediately. Skinner and Dalish ran towards the town, and another group ran off to get the things she had demanded. Someone with more experience in healing pushed her aside and started applying pressure. Belladonna stood and looked down at Bull. She shuddered. She could feel his blood starting to get sticky on her arms.

Belladonna took a slow breath and fought off the red. That was not what she needed right now, even though she wanted to go rip the town to shreds. Not what she needed right now. Not what the Bull needed.

She looked to the left where the boy was. A young man, covered in Bull’s blood. “Come,” she said, roughly. His shirt was torn and he had a bruise forming on his face. He didn’t move fast enough, and she grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him along. She didn’t have time for him to be stupid.

Belladonna shoved him into the huge tent that she shared with the Bull. The plan had been to take it down when he got back. “Grim!” she shouted, snarled, and the blonde came running. “Get me a shirt. One of Skinner’s or Dalish’s. Go now,” she snapped. Sentences were hard at this point. He grunted, and took off.

Belladonna turned and ripped through one of the chests. She found a wine skin, some cloth, and a bowl. She poured the water into it, spilt half of it everywhere, and shoved it at the boy with the cloth. “Clean up. Grim is getting a shirt. Skinner is about your size. Her shirt should fit you.”

The boy froze and looked at her with wide eyes. Belladonna scowled at him. “I want a man’s shirt,” the boy said. Belladonna bared her teeth.

“Well no one else’s will fit you, so you are getting hers and you will be-“ Belladonna stopped herself. The boy’s shirt was torn a bit, most likely from whatever fight had taken the Bull’s eye, and Belladonna saw a hint of a breast.

She closed her mouth, and realized she was staring when the boy (was boy correct? Bull had said- but he was hurt he-) closed his shirt and looked away. He seemed to shrink in on himself.

Grim returned, and stood awkwardly in the entrance while Belladonna tried to come to terms with this. Bull wanted the bo-gir- this person safe. “He said boy,” she said, slowly, not looking at him. “is that… correct?”

The boy looked at Grim, who had his usual unreadable face on. “Yes,” he said after some hesitation. Belladonna clenched and unclenched her hands. She could kill Bull right now, expecting her to give kindness to a man that had cost him his eye, that might have killed him, but Bull wanted him safe wanted-

She snarled, and cursed in several languages. Both of the men flinched. “Grim he is your charge. He will need one of your shirts, and a belt or something to keep it on I don’t know, I don’t know I don’t care keep him close keep him safe get him whatever he needs I don’t-“ Belladonna snapped her mouth closed again and shook her head. She turned and stormed from the tent. “Pack that away after. Move fast. Fifteen minutes,” she roared back at them.

Belladonna stalked back to the Bull, who was unconscious on the ground. But Stitches was back, Stitches would fix him up. She stood over them in a fearing fury, her glare and tightness making sure no one came to close and everyone hurried. The camp was pack up in eleven minutes, and the group that had gone to get the cart was back in thirteen. Belladonna helped Stitches load Bull into the back, and climbed in with them to help as needed. “Dalish, drive,” she said. Her voice was rough with red, and she was barely holding it together. Blood and Bull was in the air and it was his blood and her own sang in the need of spilling its cost from others. But not now. She couldn’t do that now.

She looked around at everyone walking. “We ride ahead, you will meet us at the border over the bridge in the mountains. You will not be able to find us, but I will have guides for you. You will turn away pursuers,” she turned to Skinner and some men who were leading horses. “Drop what you need to ride quickly, others take it up, and go ahead of us. Pay who you need to make sure we were never there, never passed that way. Secure our route. Hear, and obey,” she said. Skinner nodded, cut the packs off of her horse in two smooth slices, and urged her pony on. She saw Grim was on a horse with the boy riding behind him. Good, it was good that he was being taken away from her. If Bull did not wake she could not guarantee she would obey his wishes regarding the boy.

Belladonna closed her eyes when her head went dizzy with the red. “Ride,” she snarled, and shuddered in relief when the cart started moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this doesn't come off the wrong way with Krem. I don't imagine that Belladonna had had an interaction with a trans person (that she knew about) until Krem, and wasn't sure if Bull had been saying what he meant to say. Still, I hope this doesn't hurt anyone. Let me know if it does and I will try to make it better while still showing her confusion.
> 
> sorry


	17. Whole Fucked up Family

Belladonna was so caught in staring at the bandages on the left side of the Bull’s face that she did not notice him wake. “Kadan,” he rumbled, and she flinched in surprise. But then she was sliding in next to him, pressing herself to him, and kissing all over his face.

“I am going to kill you,” she snarled, her hands trembling on his chest. His hand came up and tangled in her hair. He pressed her forehead to his.

“Couldn’t let ‘em kill him. Where is the boy?”

“Grim is watching him. I couldn’t- He did this to you,” she hissed. The Bull frowned, but she kissed him again to keep him from arguing. Objectively she knew it wasn’t the boy’s fault. The Bull had said he hadn’t gotten his ax up in time but that didn’t keep her from being resentful to the boy. 

She leaned back, cupping his face, and staring at the bandages on his face.

“Couldn’t be saved, could it?” he asked, running his hand up and down her arm. Her lips tightened, and she shook her head. He sighed, and for a moment looked utterly miserable. But then he shook it off. “What is done is done. The boy wasn’t hurt?”

“No. Aside from the bruising on his face he is fine. Bull he has- I don’t understand.”

“What?” Bull asked and then understanding came to him. “Ah. We have his sort under the Qun. Aqun-athlok is our name for them. You’ve never met anyone like him?”

“No,” she said and caught his hand when he reached up for his bandages.

“Just treat him like the others.”

“I haven’t treated him any different than I would have if it had been Stitches or Grim costing you an eye,” she snapped. He laughed a little and palmed her cheek.

“So you’ve been unkind to him?”

“No, just- I am giving his care to Grim. I want nothing to do with him.”

“Well, he is going to be a Charger. I am going to invite him. I don’t imagine he will say no.”

“No, don’t-“

“He needs us Kadan, just like all the others have.”

“The  _ others  _ haven’t almost gotten you killed,” she hissed, and pulled away. She could kill him, she really could. He was awake now, so the worry was gone but that just meant the rage had more room. “How dare you risk yourself like that,” she bit out, her hands shaking. He frowned, his eyes- eye- softening. He reached for her. He looked so pale, and tired back against his pillows that she caved and went to him.

“I’m sorry Kadan,” he murmured into her hair, and stroked along her back. To her annoyance she found a sob pushing against her throat. He continued to hold her, to soothe his hand down her spine, until her moment of weakness passed. He cupped her head in his hands. “I’m not going to go anywhere without you, Kadan. And even if I did, we are always together,” he said, a hand falling to gathering their necklaces together. He then leaned in to kiss her.

The fact he completely missed her lips startled a miserable laugh out of her. He frowned at himself, and tried again. “I will need to work on that,” he said against her mouth.

“Fighting will be different for you now. I will help.” She said back, and he hummed. The kiss turned deeper, but remained languid. He would not be up to anything strenuous at the moment. If he tried she would have to strangle him.

Eventually they parted and she pressed her face into his neck. One of his hands was running up and down her back while the other comfortably gripped her ass. She allowed herself to relax against him, to soak him in for a few moments, and then she pulled away. “Let me get you something to eat Kadan. You’ve been asleep for a few days.”

“Mm food, sounds good. Send for the boy,” he said. She scowled but he just smiled lazily at her. At least he wasn’t insisting towards her liking him. Yet.

Belladonna stepped from the tent out into the safety they found in the mountains. They were surrounded by rock on all sides, and scouts had checked to make sure it wasn’t possible for anyone to climb the slopes to attack from above. They had come back scraped up and bruised, and positive no one would be getting them from there. The only entrance was through a tunnel, and they had secured it. Even then, it was out of the way and not easily found; so much so that they had to leave someone near the road to collect the stragglers from their hasty departure. No doubt they would not be taking any jobs near Tevinter for a while.

Stitches was approached immediately “He awake?”

“Yes,” she breathed, the first breath in days it felt like, and stepped aside so he could go in. She dodged around some people in the dim light of their little mountain retreat.

“How’s the big guy?” Skinner asked as she drew close to their fire and pot. Belladonna grabbed the offered bowls from Grim, and ignored the boy besides him for now. She spooned herself some in each.

“Awake, and hungry.”

“He’s fine then,” Dalish said with a laugh. It was a touch too high for it to have been true.

“He will be,” Belladonna assured. She took a slow breath then looked at the boy. Her eyes touched on him, then slid to Grim. “He wants to see him.”

The boy looked at Grim who nodded, and gave him a gentle nudge. The boy stood, and followed. Belladonna did not wait for him, but started walking. If he knew what was good for him he’d follow.

“That smells delightful,” Bull said upon their entrance. Belladonna sat beside him, and waited for Stitches to finish looking at the blood crusted, angry mass that was now Bull’s left eye. It set her on edge looking at it, but she couldn’t look away. Finally Stitches applied a clean bandage.

“We’ll need to get you some eye patches.”

“So long as they are pretty. Can’t be making me look bad now. Belladonna might as well have a nice view.”

“Shove it,” she huffed, but made sure he had a good hold of his bowl before letting it go into his grip.

“Don’t rub it,” Stitches said.

“Come on it is bad enough I’m bedridden, might as well rub it.”

“The eye, Bull.”

“Oh right, that. Sure.”

“Idiot,” Belladonna said without heat, and wiped his chin.

“Ah, that will take some practice,” he said with a sigh. Then he switched from Bull to The Bull, and looked at the boy. “You alright kid?”

“Yes, ser,” the boy said, quickly.

“Relax, I’m not your commanding officer. Take a seat. Stitches, we good?”

“Don’t rub it and we will be. Check on you in the morning,” Stitches said, gathered his things, and stepped out.

“Knock first.”

“Always.”

Bull chuckled, and looked at the boy. “Still standing? Sit kid, sit,” Bull said, and gestured to a pillow he and Belladonna tended to use as a chair. The boy tossed a nervous look Belladonna’s way. She turned her glare back to her bowl. “Belladonna won’t bite. You, at least. Sit.”

The boy sat.

“Name?”

“Cremiscius Acclassi, ser,” Cremiscius Acclassi said.

“Nice to meet you Cremiscius. The Iron Bull,” Bull said, and held his hand out. “We didn’t get to properly introduce ourselves earlier.”

Cremiscius hesitated, and then shook his hand. “A pleasure.”

“I’m sure, I am rather great. This is Belladonna, though she isn’t going to shake your hand.”

“That’s fine, ser,” Cremiscius said. He glanced at Belladonna, and then away again.

“Grim been taking care of you?”

“Yes, ser, he seems to know a lot about… about someone like me.”

“Does he? Interesting. Grim never mentioned it. Not that he mentions a lot of things, mind you, but it doesn’t surprise me. That man knows a lot about a lot. He’s seen to it you’ve gotten a new binder?”

“No, but we were able to repair my former one.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” Bull said, nodding heavily. Belladonna kept an eye on the bowl in his hand. It was starting to sag. “Cremiscius, Krem. Look,” Bull said, shaking himself a bit. “If you want a job, a place in the Chargers, there is one for you. If not, if fighting isn’t what you are interested in, we got contacts from here to Orlais. We will find you a place.”

Krem was quiet for a minute, his eyes wide. “W-why?”

“Why not kid? You join us you join the whole fucked up family. You don’t, you join the number of people we got jobs somewhere else. It’s how we work,” Bull said, slurring towards the end. Belladonna caught his bowl before it fell. “Hoo boy, head injuries sure are a doozy.” Bull focused his eye, again, with some effort, on Krem. “Think about it kid. There is a place here for you if you want it. Even Belladonna will warm up to you in time.”

“I will, ser,” Krem said, stood, and bowed a little. “Thank you, for saving my life.”

“Don’t mention it kid,” Bull said, relaxing back into the pillows. He was already half asleep. Belladonna kissed his cheek, and stepped out with Krem. They stood, awkwardly, for a moment.

“He is right,” she said gruffly. “There is a place for you, if you want it. Hardly better places out there.”

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

“I don’t,” she said. She was quiet, she was so tired. “You nearly cost me the man I love. But he will live, and you,” she said, and turned on him, “You will be at his left side now, whenever I am unable. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. She glared a few minutes longer before nodding to herself.

“Good. Go join the others. I suspect we won’t be here much longer. Everyone will need to be in their best shape for when we move out since he will not be.” Krem nodded, and left her. He slouched until he rounded a corner.

Belladonna took a breath in slow of the cold air, and then turned back into the tent to be by Bull’s side.


End file.
